A Life in Sherwood
by Sapphire at Dawn
Summary: The tale of the life of Maid Marian, consort of the outlaw Robin Hood. Marian is the daughter of a rich noble, but the injustice of the politics of medieval England causes her to take a different path than the one her father wants her to. Being re-written
1. Prologue

_**This was my first fanfic up here, and it's now being re-written slightly. While I am editing the chapters, they may not be in the right order, but bear with me, it should all be done soon! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this :)**_

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_'And yet I think these oaks at dawn and even  
__Will whisper ever more of Robin Hood...  
You, good Friar,  
You, Much, you Scarlet, you dear Little John,  
Your names will cling like ivy to the wood.'  
_

_- Alfred Tennyson_

I have always reckoned our lives to be like a path that we journey down over the years. Each decision we make, every challenge we face, every course of action that we undertake causes the path we follow to twist and turn, to fork and split in different places, so that the way is never straight or easy, and every individual's is as different and unique as their lives are.

The path of my life as Marian, consort of legendary outlaw, Robin Hood, is more complicated than most, it was no straight, flat road, like those ones laid out by the Romans centauries before. It was littered with sharp corners and dark tunnels, etched into it like carvings on stone, as every deed I undertook with the unruly band of outlaws known to history as the Merry Men took me somewhere new, the thrill of adventure and danger always dogging our footsteps. The way was hard, and sometimes I never felt like I would never overcome the steep and tiring hills that were strewn in my way and I longed for the comfort of the straight and uncomplicated life that I had turned from years before. However, there is no going back along this road, and I reminded myself that I chose to make it so, and that a free life is never easy. I knew that I would have it no other way.

I lived in a time when life was harsh and cruel for many people. The winds had blown from across the sea, long before I was born, bringing with it the Norman ships, and the returning tide brought war to our shores. The battle was lost, and our people thrown down to be ruled by these foreign aristocrats, the lands that had belonged to them were stripped away and distributed among those in favour of the new King, and, as always, the people suffered. Now, the sun and rain beat ferociously upon their backs as they fight day by day to survive. The gaping chasms that divided the classes that existed in society were greatly widened by many pointless rules of etiquette and discrimination, reinforced by those at the reins, the descendants of those who came over the sea, and the majority who suffer are too poor to challenge them.

The people's faith in their King dwindled as Richard the Lionheart chose to desert his country, and fight abroad for many years for a cause that many of the ordinary folk could not comprehend. He had gained popularity when he ascended to the throne by promising to do away with the Forest Laws that denied the people right to hunt on the best areas of land, where game were plenty. He seemed true to his word when he emptied the prisons and with drew areas from the title of Royal Forest, but the laws were never really changed, and he began to lose favour. In his absence, the powerful Norman Lords and nobles took chance to secure their own wealth and to gain more lands by plotting against his return. His own brother was included among the number.

It resulted in barons and bishops fighting against and amongst one another in petty squabbles over land and wealth and greed. They drained money from whatever sources they could to fund their feuds, resulting in a corrupt Norman nobility and starving Saxon peasants struggling to pay the taxes that their lords kept raising. It was left to us small band of fighters to try to restore the balance in the lands we loved, at the expense of our freedom.

My story starts when the path of my life split away from the simple line that was expected of me by the society that surrounded me. My father was descended from one of those favourable men who conquered our island, though his lands were small compared to some that William bestowed upon his men. He was a harsh man, though he had no interest in the wars between the barons, and they had little interest in him. The taxes raised on his land went towards securing his own comforts in life, especially after the death of my brother. His wife, my mother, had died young. Shortly after my birth she succumbed to the summer fever and passed leaving me to the care of a wet nurse. She had borne my father one other child, a son by the name of William. He had died some years before my tale begins, fighting for Prince John in Ireland, and the loss of his heir had a profound effect on my father. He grew more and more distant, his punishments harsher, and it was then he seemed to begin to value his own comforts above all else. I had always been left in the care of my nurse, far from his terrible eyes and so was raised to care and feel and scorn his cruelty, and I grew bold and brave under her eye, and it was largely due to her that I became the woman I was_. _


	2. Chapter One

_**Here's the second chapter, hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment ;)**_

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Marian stole quietly out of the house, tiptoeing as not to wake her father, Lord Fitzwalter, or the sleeping servants. His chamber was at the back of the house, she knew, but still she would not risk being heard. Her father, though he had not specified that she did not do this, would not take kindly to her actions, and would surely punish her severely.

Dressed in a pair of breeches borrowed and boots borrowed from the youngest groom, and her brother's old jerkin and a long brown homespun cloak, she crept round the side of the house to the stables to saddle her horse. After fumbling with the heavy leather and stiff buckles, she carefully moved aside the straw to find the bundle she had concealed there earlier that day, and tucked it securely under her arm.

She threw more straw over the wooden floor of the stables to muffle the sound of the horses shod feet, and led him out into the night. Still clinging onto the bundle, she mounted and moved off in the direction of the small village where her father's tenants lived.

She recalled the first time she had ever dared to set out on a nighttime journey. She had been quaking with nerves and fear of being discovered, but also with the anger of what she had seen earlier that day. She and the household's cook, Alice, had been walking through the village when a herd of Lord Fitzwalter's men had gone storming into a house belonging to an old man by the name of Geoffrey, claiming that he had not paid his taxes. When the men discovered that there was no money in the house, nor anything of much value that they could take to cover the cost, they began, on Lord Fitzwalter's orders, to strip the house of anything they could. The poor man was left with no blankets on his pitiful bed of straw, no pots with which to cook, and no bread to eat. Marian felt rage leap up like flames within her as she saw Geoffrey pleading with her father that he had nothing else, and that he would surely freeze to death in the night. The shock was evident on her face as she heard her father turn away from the wretched man saying that everyone had to pay their taxes. Geoffrey was left quivering and with tears streaming down his face and the inside of his house now bare. Alice had gripped determinedly onto Marian's arm as she quaked in anger beside her.

'We must help him!' Marian hissed, watching as Geoffrey tried to gather his dignity in front of the crowd that had gathered silently to watch.

'We cannot!' Alice had said. 'Your father would surely learn of your deeds, and would punish you heartlessly for defying him! I would also be punished for allowing you to do so, and I cannot afford to lose the job I have!'

Marian had grown even angrier at that, though she could see what Alice said was the truth. She despised the fact that it was within her power to help the man, though she could actually do nothing for fear of her father. The people of the village had turned to look at her, and she felt ashamed, for the first time in her life, she despised being the Lord of the Manor's daughter.

She had gone home, her thoughts stewing and brewing inside her, until she realised that she _could_ help the man. She just had to do it in such a way that her father would not find out. The only way to avoid being seen was to venture out at night, when everyone else was asleep. She had crept around the house later that day and had taken a small pot from the kitchen and hidden a loaf of bread and a few bits of cold ham. She had also stolen a few blankets, which she wrapped around the pot to make a bundle, adding, from her own purse, a couple of coins.

Atop her horse now, she smiled at the memory, and recalled that how, over time, her charity had grown, and now, most of the families in the village had benefited from her kindness. If Alice had noticed the disappearance of that small pot, or any food after it, she had not said anything, and she had never been missed. As long as she returned before dawn, nobody would know she had even left her bed.

She stopped at the top of the hill that began to slope towards the village that Marian knew was there, even though it was now shrouded in darkness. The branches of the trees that were grouped by the side of the road rustled together as a gentle night breeze blew through them. Marian breathed in deeply, inhaling the cool, fresh scent. It was the smell of freedom, and somehow, it gave her courage. Felling bolder now, she rode on like a wraith in the night to drop her first gift at the door of the mill.

***

Marian jumped as Alice the cook came bustling loudly into the previously quiet room where she was sitting, staring into the empty grate of the fireplace, bringing with her the sounds and smells of a busy kitchen.

'Oh!' she exclaimed in surprise as she caught sight of the startled girl. 'I'm sorry, my dear.'

'That's alright, Alice,' Marian replied as her racing heart slowed towards its normal pace. The cook looked in a very sore state, with her hair a mess and stained apron askew, and her shining cheeks flushed. 'Whatever's the matter?'

'Oh, my dear,' Alice sighed. 'There just isn't enough time in the day. I've dinner to prepare, wood and meat to buy, among other chores, and now, among all the spilled broth, my troublesome nuisance of a son has turned completely out of the blue. Heaven knows what he wants!' she looked over at Marian, who had not moved from the seat she occupied. 'I am sorry for barging in on you lass in all of a dither. I only came to fetch some more tallow candles.'

Marian waved away her apology, vaguely remembering her son, a boy named Harry who was a couple of years older than her own seventeen years. He had used to visit his mother every few months or so from where he lived with his aunt in a village a few miles away, but his visits had become less frequent over the years, and Marian had not seen him in a long time.

'Now, what are you doing in here?' Alice's voice broke through her thoughts. 'What with the shutters closed on this fine day, just staring into an empty grate?'

'I was thinking,' Marian told her. 'That is all.'

Alice nodded her head slowly, and Marian noticed a look of suspicion cross her face.

'You weren't trying to catch up on sleep missed last night?' she said softly.

Immediately, Marian whipped her head round to stare at the cook, her heart seeming to leap into her mouth. Had she been seen? However, there was a gentle smile playing across Alice's face.

'You needn't worry, lass, for I'll not tell your father,' she chuckled. ''Tis a darn good Christian thing you do, and 'tis a shame you're forced to do it in secret for fear of punishment. I tell thee, that is what our King should be doing instead of fighting his pointless Crusade far from his kingdom. Not when his people are starving.'

Marian wondered at the passion in Alice's voice, rarely had she heard her talk like that. But she could not keep back the question she longed to be answered.

'How do you know?' she whispered.

'I pieced two and two together,' Alice replied calmly, crossing the room to the dresser near the window and bent to take something out of the cupboard. 'People receiving gifts of food and coins in the village, gifts that not many could afford, save the Lord of the Manor. Or his daughter. Anyhow, I know you've been out of bed several nights, and I had my suspicions, so last night I waited up. Sure enough, there you went, riding off to the village with a bundle under your arm.'

'Does anyone else know?' Marian asked, failing to keep the panic out of her voice.

'Nay, lass, nay,' Alice chuckled at Marian's frightened face. 'And I'll not tell them either.'

She was smiling in earnest now, and Marian knew she had no need to be afraid, Alice would keep her secret and not tell her father, who would surely punish her heavily for what she did.

'Come,' Alice said, clutching the candles she had came for in her hand. 'I'll take you to meet Harry. You'll have something in common.'

Marian allowed herself to be led through the house and into the bright sunshine. As she blinked to adjust her eyes to the light, she saw a lad sitting astride a great bay horse and grinning from ear to ear.

As the women approached, he dismounted from his horse to greet them. He was tall with gangly long arms and legs that gave him the appearance of a clumsy young dog, who did not yet have complete control over his limbs. His head was surrounded by a wild growth of hair and on his chin were patches of fuzzy growth that would one day turn into a beard. He was around eighteen or nineteen years old now, and quite different to the scrawny youth Marian remembered. Alice smiled up at her son, who towered above her, her face shining with pride.

'Come here, you young rouge,' she clasped him in an embrace.

'Allow me to introduce Marian,' she said, letting go of him and turning to where Marian stood. 'Daughter of Lord Robert Fitzwalter.' She beamed as he bowed to her, and Marian dropped a curtsy to him in return.

'My lady,' he said with a small smile that was hard to read. Somehow, Marian got the feeling that he was scorning her.

'No, please call me Marian,' she insisted. 'I do not like being addressed by my title, the air is haughty and unbecoming of me.'

At her words, Harry's grin widened and she felt sure that he approved. She hope it lessened his scorn.

'How do you do, Marian,' he said with a smile. It was very hard not to warm to that charming grin, which she couldn't help but return.

'I thought you'd get along,' Alice said, beaming. 'I think you've more in common than just a liking for warm words. It' her that's been giving out food parcels in the village that you and your friends have been wondering at,' she added in a low voice to Harry.

Marian felt her cheeks redden modestly as Harry looked round at her in disbelief, but secretly she was burning with pride. He was clearly impressed.

'She's never!' he exclaimed.

Marian thought she heard a tone of disbelief in his voice, and her face hardened. Why should it be unbelievable that a woman of high class should do something charitable and kind?

'I assure you, sir, I am,' Marian said.

'I meant not to offend you, my lady,' he said, his voice cool.

'My lady?' Marian echoed in surprise. 'I do not like my title, I would prefer Marian.'

'And I do not like 'sir', nor do I think I have ever been addressed as such,' he countered, a hint of a smile lurking behind his eyes.

Marian laughed and the smile on Harry's face burst forth, and he began to chuckle.

'A feisty lady,' he said. 'Giving money out in the village!'

Alice hissed at him furiously as Marian's heart pounded in her chest like a caged bird wishing for flight.

'Quiet, you foolish lad! Why, if her father hears!' she warned.

'I thought you said he was away?' he chuckled at their fear.

'Aye but still, even the walls have ears!' Alice scolded.

'Sorry!' he whispered to Marian. 'I knew not that your father would disapprove.'

'You knew not?' Alice echoed. 'Why do you think she does it in secret? The villagers do not surely object, you fool!'

She pretended to clout him over the head with her hand, but Marian saw affection in her eyes.

'Oh, aye, I suppose,' he agreed with a little shrug of realisation.

'What've you come for this time?' Alice asked, changing the subject.

'Just to see how my old mam fares!' he chuckled.

'Now that I shall believe when I see it,' she scoffed, merrily. 'What's the real reason?'

'To beg a meal?' he asked hopefully.

'You should not say such things in front of the Lord's daughter,' Alice chided as Marian grinned at his cheek.

'I'll warrant she doesn't mind,' Harry said, nodding in Marian's direction, 'what with her charity. Anyway, I'll say it's part of her work; giving food to a poor, hungry, travel worn lad like me.'

'Certainly I have no objection,' Marian laughed. 'I should be glad of the company, for a while, and we always seem to have too much food.'

Alice sighed, resignedly. 'Well, you'd best stay out of the way, I've a busy kitchen to run!'

'Aye, I will, I will,' Harry promised dutifully.

Harry was invited into the house and was sat at the kitchen table by his mother, who then went to fetch him bread and cheese and leftover meats accompanied with a cup of ale. As he ate, he chatted away to Marian. Mostly, he spoke of his friends, and the jokes and hijinks they got up to on the roads, and what the busy towns were like on market day, but soon he lowered his tone, glancing up at the busy servants who occasionally rushed by the table.

'Why is it that you do what you do at night?' he asked. 'Forgive me saying this, but it does not seem to be the proper thing to do in your social circle.'

'Nay, you are completely right; if my father knew what I was doing, he would be horrified. It is not my proper place to go riding about the countryside at night, deciding what is best for _his_ people, he would say,' Marian replied, a hint of a scorn present in her voice. 'But that is why I must. The people who have the power to help, do not, and that is what angers me. My father has enough money, yet his peasants and serfs struggle to pay their taxes! I cannot sit back and accept my fortunate lot in life, not when people are struggling to feed their families. People I have means to help.'

'Aye, I can understand that,' he said solemnly. 'Sadly, the want of someone with money and power to change is not a common situation, and all too often the peasants continue to suffer, their pleas falling on deaf ears. It has always been so.'

'Aye,' Marian said. 'Though I wish it were not so, how can I, a mere woman, change what is commonplace among those of power and wealth?'

'And the barons and bishops get fatter at the people's expense. Meaning no offence to your father, but the Lords of these manors drain their peasants to keep the higher nobles happy.'

Marian shook her head. 'I take no offence, for 'tis naught but the truth you speak. I fear that only the return of the King will set all to rights,' she said with a sigh. 'What I do is not nearly enough, and it pains me and angers me to think so. I can only help one small village in Nottinghamshire, and what happens if I am caught, or am unable to carry out my deeds? Only the King is able to care for a whole kingdom. Let us hope that he returns soon.'

'That's if he ever does return,' Alice interrupted their conversation as she bustled past the table carrying a large iron ladle. 'If that brother of his allows him to do so.'

'Wherever did you learn that?' Harry asked in disbelief, turning to his mother.

'I may feign deafness when I serve Lord Fitzwalter, but my hearing has not failed me yet,' she replied with a wink.

Harry looked impressed. 'Well, they _do_ say Prince John is plotting against his brother. Ever I hear tales of him sending out for men to strengthen his garrisons and castles, arming himself against King Richard's return.'

'Aye,' Marian replied. 'I have heard that in the markets of Nottingham. But would he really do so, or is it just idle talk?'

'I think he probably would,' Harry sighed. 'The Prince is ruthless, they say. He demands money from the bishops and barons to pay for the armourers and blacksmiths and mercenaries he hires, as well as the tax money.'

'I thought our taxes were going to fund the King in the Holy Land,' Marian said unsurely. 'That is the official line, is it not?'

'A portion do,' Harry said, 'and you are right, it is what we are told, but I fear that most go to the Prince, with the Sheriff's of the Shires taking a cut. How else could they afford their life of luxury? Less than one third of the money ever reaches King Richard.'

Marian was fuming. She had thought that the Sheriff would at least hang onto one final piece of decency, instead of allowing the hard earned money of the people he was entrusted to protect to go to Prince John, so he could plot against the people's one hope of salvation, keeping the rest of their money for himself and his sports.

'Does the King know this?' she asked.

'I do not know.' Harry said, shaking his head. 'I expect he wonders why he is receiving so little money, but he cannot leave the fight to demand why. Does this change your charity?' he asked.

'It only makes it more urgent.' She told him.

He was silent for a while, slowly chewing on some bread, obviously toying with his thoughts.

'I've an idea,' he began to tell Marian, but at that moment, Alice rushed over, and dragged Harry to his feet.

'Lord Fitzwalter returns, and he will not take kindly to me hoarding strange youths in his kitchen!' she hissed at him.

Harry hurried to the door and threw one last grin at Marian before he was bundled out of the back door.

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_**Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.**_


	3. Chapter Two

_**Another re-written chapter, I'm sorry the story won't make sense for a while! I hope you enjoy these editings, please review and tell me what you think/yell at me to do it faster because bits are missing!**_

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It was later that night, when Marian had gone to bed, that she heard shuffling in the yard beneath the window of her bower. She had retired early that evening, but had woken after only few hours. She had tossed and turned to no avail, and now lay awake, staring out at the dark sky. Her ears straining hard, she listened for another sound, not sure if she had imagined the first. She heard it again. Now she was in no doubt that someone, or something, was in the yard below. She threw aside her blankets and crept over to the window. As she looked out, she could see nothing, only the dark outline of the stables below. It must have been some sort of animal, she thought, a sheep or cow that had escaped from the fenced pastures that surrounded the house. As she turned to cross the room back to her bed, she saw a figure emerging from the stables, leading a horse. He was carrying a small lantern, and as he turned his face towards her, she saw that it was Harry, and her jaw dropped in shock.

He must have heard her move suddenly back from the window, for he looked up, and seeing her stood there, his face broke out into one of his trademark smiles, and he beckoned for her to come down.

'What are you doing?' she hissed as she opened the window.

'I've something to show you!' he whispered back. 'Come down, but quickly!'

Hastily, Marian threw on her hidden breeches and boots, and threw her cloak round her shoulders before stealing out of her room and down the stairs. Harry was waiting for her outside the door.

'Here,' he said handing her the reins to her horse, 'I've something to show you. Follow me.'

He helped Marian into her saddle and led her around the other side of the stable where there was another horse waiting for him. She followed him away from the manor, and from the village, towards the road that lead to Nottingham.

'Do we ride to Nottingham?' she asked as he quickened the pace to a lively trot.

'Aye,' he said, 'for I've something there to show you.'

When they reached the main road, he increased the speed again, and, determined not to be shown up, she matched his pace with ease.

After a while, the black shadow of the town loomed ahead of them, silhouetted against the midnight sky like an ominous black thunder cloud. It looked vaguely frightening at night, Marian, who had only ever been to the town during the day, thought, with its pointed roofs sticking up beyond the high stone walls.

They rode, at last, through the city gates. Harry told her to keep back and out of the way while he spoke to the guards, for he said that she would attract a fair bit of attention dressed in men's clothes, though if she pulled the hood of the cloak over her long hair, you could not easily tell she was a girl. She did what Harry told her, and waited back in the shadows of the walls as he told the guards that they wished to stay at the inn. Thankfully, the sleepy guards did not question this tale much, and let them pass through without much as a glance in Marian's direction.

The town was deserted; obviously everyone was safely tucked up in their houses for the night. They made their way at a much slower pace to the Road to Jerusalem Inn, and Harry asked a man who waited there for stabling, handing their horses to him and tossing him a coin. However, it was not for the door of the inn that he made, but he dragged Marian back out of the yard, and towards the walls of the castle bailey. Curious, she followed him as he shrank into the shadows of the towering walls, and, motioning for her to be silent, they crept light-footedly to the gate.

As they neared the entrance, Harry stooped to the ground and scooped up a handful of fallen stones. Marian was puzzled until he threw the rocks into a street opposite, and she realised what he was doing. She heard a gruff male voice curse violently, and two guards emerged from a hole in the wall near the bailey gate, where they had apparently been keeping watch. Grumbling, they left their posts and went to examine the source of the noise of Harry's stones.

Once they were out of sight, Harry immediately dashed to the gate, dragging Marian with him, and darted through. Her heart was beating as fast as a hare's as it is chased by dogs as Harry led her through more, unguarded courtyards, saying nothing to her, but always scanning their surroundings and peering into the darkness, making sure they stayed in the shadows. Eventually, he stopped outside some old, decaying outbuilding that looked like it had been in disuse for years.

The stones were chipped and crumbling away, and in places, there were small gaps between them. The tiles of the roof were also in great disrepair and looked almost in danger of caving in.

'Why have you brought me here?' she asked, wrinkling her nose at the faint smell of decay. 'What is this dingy place?'

'This _dingy place_, as you call it, hides the Sheriff's fortune,' he told her.

Marian recoiled in shock? Keep his money in this dirty old grain house that had not seen use for decades? The Sheriff had surely gone mad. Why on earth would he keep in unguarded and unacknowledged?

'It's to throw people off guard,' Harry told her when she voiced her concerns. 'The Sheriff is very jealous of his collection, I believe he has a room inside the castle where many think the fortune lies. It is a decoy, it is the last place anyone would look, and unguarded so as not to attract attention.'

'Then how do _you _know about it?' she asked him, brimming with curiosity. Harry had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

'A friend,' he said simply with a wink.

He seized the heavy, and surprisingly well oiled door, and Marian saw that the lock had been broken. Harry, however, did not seem surprised to see this.

'Another friend?' she asked, nodding to the twisted metal and splintered wood.

He merely smiled and held open the door for her. She stepped into the cool interior of the stone hut and waited for her eyes to adjust to the new level of darkness, but she began to see black mounds heaped on the floor, and as Harry hauled the door wide open, she gasped as the silver moonlight reflected off the glinting coins spilling out of the sacks.

Marian's eyes widened with shock and surprise. Never before had she seen so much money in one place. Her father had money, of course, but he was a mere peasant, scratching a living off the land compared to this vast haul of wealth.

'Quite a sight, isn't it?' Harry said, his low voice brining her back to the present.

'There's so much of it!' Marian breathed, slightly awe-struck. But then, the injustice of it all came flooding in. 'Yet, even in Nottingham there are people starving in the gaol because they have no money with which to pay their taxes.'

'This is probably the money collected from the people,' Harry told her, echoing her distaste.

'Why have you brought me to see this?' she asked, turning to him.

'To show you that the system is corrupt,' he replied.

'I know it's corrupt! This money is just sitting here! The Sheriff does not spend it, or send it away to the King as he should.'

Marian was growing angry. The ragged beggars and their skinny children that camped by the side of the roads crept into her mind, their starvation and plight showing in their dull eyes. These were the people who had been forced out of their homes because they could not pay their taxes, and the bailiffs had been ordered to burn down their houses and had taken whatever possessions the families could not escape with. Her eyes stung with emotion every time she had to pass their wretched camps, and they stung now as she regarded the heaps of shining coins that had been stolen from them.

Marian tried to do everything she could to insure those in her father's care would not have to lose their homes and end up sleeping by the side of the dusty roads with little more than a cloak over their heads. Every time she had left a parcel of gifts, she felt a sense of relief that this was another family safe from that terrible fate for a little while longer.

But here, here was enough money to feed all those families for many winters to come, and it was just sitting in sacks in a disused corner of Nottingham Castle.

Suddenly, an idea flashed into her mind, and she made to grab one of the sacks.

'What are you doing?' Harry hissed at her.

'There is enough money here to feed the poor of Nottingham for years!' she whispered excitedly. 'Why don't we take it, now!'

'No!' Harry whispered urgently. 'You cannot! Not now!'

'Why not?' she asked, ignoring the hands that tried to pull her back.

'We do not have a proper plan! There is nobody to cover us, nobody to hold the guards up, and how would we get past them again at the gate?' he asked furiously, still attempting to pull her off the sacks. 'I can do it empty handed, but not laden with stolen sacks of the Sheriff's silver!'

'But it is here, now!' she spat at him as he wrenched the sacks away from her. 'Think of all the people we could save with this! People are dying of starvation, we could feed them all! Save them all! And you would have us calmly walk away from the finest opportunity to help people we will ever likely come across? We would be no better than them asleep up there in their fine feather beds!' she gestured madly up towards where she guessed the castle was.

She was furious. How could he be so selfish, when he had, that very morning, lectured her and admired her for her kind charity? She had the chance to end their misery, but this fool, this selfish, cowardly, stupid fool was stopping her!

Suddenly, Harry froze, but Marian, who was pulsing with mad, hot anger, did not see this, and continued to laden her arms with sacks of coins.

'Shh!' Harry grabbed her arm in a vice like grip, but she wrenched it free.

'Let me go, you blaggard!' she cried, and then suddenly stopped, painfully aware of all the noise she must have been making, hardly daring to breath.

To her horror, she heard voices sound outside in the courtyard.

A powerful sense of dread crept upon her as she realised how foolish she had been with all her shouting and raging. And now she had alerted the guards to their presence; there was no way that she had not been overheard.

'Run,' Harry hissed in her ear.

'What?' Marian echoed stupidly. All of her senses seemed to have left her as she stood there listening to the voices outside.

'Go! Run, hide!' he shoved her in the direction of the door.

Somehow, her feet unfroze and she stumbled towards the opening. She considered running back through the courtyard, the way that they had come, but she suddenly spotted a small gap between an outbuilding and the high castle wall. She darted inside at once, jamming herself there.

As she stood there, heart pounding, hardly daring to even draw breath, she could see nothing except the cold black stone. She heard Harry's footsteps hurriedly running across the courtyard, and found herself hoping with all her might that he would make it unseen. What plan he had, Marian did not know, but she had no choice but to trust him. Suddenly, a shout rang out through the night; he had been seen.

There were more shouts, and the sound of scuffling feet as the guards descended upon him. Despite the sound of her heart beating wildly in her ears, Marian strained for any clue that might hint that Harry had managed to free himself and sped off through the streets of the town to safety. All her hopes were crushed when she heard a harsh voice give a triumphant cry.

'Take him to the dungeons!'

The order was followed by more shouts and scuffles; evidently, Harry was still putting up a fight, and resisting all attempts to be dragged off.

'He'll not keep still!' someone cried. 'All of us go, 'tis the only way to keep a hold on him. I'll send for someone to guard this place!'

At once, Marian saw her opening, possibly the only chance she would get to escape her hiding place. She realised that this must have been Harry's intention from the off. He had caused the guards so much hassle that they had no other choice but to leave the scene unprotected, and therefore had given her a clear escape route.

She drew a great breath, humbled by his actions, but she had no time to dwell on his gallantry. She needed to leave the place before the additional guard arrived. She strained her ears again for any noise, but heard nothing. The calm and quiet of the night had been restored, with no hint that anything out of the ordinary had occurred.

Slowly and carefully, she edged her way out of her narrow hide-out. To her great relief the coast was clear, and, holding her breath, she crept along the walls, careful to stay in the shadows, and retraced their steps back to the castle bailey. She stopped briefly to scoop a handful of stones from the floor, in case she needed to trick the guards that stood by the gate, but, luckily, they had gone, no doubt drawn away by the sounds of the fight. She still clung onto the handful of stones with a fierce grip, just in case she should need them again.

Once she was clear of the gates, she ran as fast as she dared back to the stables of the inn, her heart beating wildly and fighting to hold back the tears of fright that welled behind her eyes. She slowed before she reached the yard; she could not arise suspicion. Remembering in time that she was supposed to be a lad, she pulled up the hood of her cloak to hide her fair hair.

With a steady, deep voice, Marian asked for the horse she had stabled earlier, hoping that the man would not notice her trembling fingers as she handed over a few of the coins she had stuffed in her jerkin.

Prompted by the offering of the coins, he sent a stable boy ahead to alert the gates, so she need not be hindered there, and she thanked him, still using her pseudo voice.

Once she was mounted, she rode hard, never stopping or looking back, the tears of guilt and fear finally cascading down her cheeks. It was all her fault, this mess she'd landed them in. And she cursed herself with the fiercest words she knew.

By the time she had reached her home, she had resolved to rescue him. She knew she owed it to him, she had to try. She did not like to think of what would happen if she was caught, but, she reasoned, whatever it was, she would deserve it.


	4. Chapter Three

_**Here's the next part, thanks for reading.**_

* * *

Marian was awoken the next morning by the harsh spring sunshine glaring in through her window and striking her eyes harshly. She had slept fitfully on and off since she had slipped into the house in the early hours of the morning after hurriedly stabling her horse. Her dreams had been haunted by pursuit and punishment, guilt and regret, feelings that were echoed now she was awake, though their intensity was trebled.

She thought of Harry, her stomach plummeting. What would he be doing now? Was he cold? Hungry? Had he been beaten by the Sheriff's men? Was he dead?

She dared not think of that eventuality. She doubted that she could forgive herself if that were the case. She climbed out of bed, dressed herself and made her way down the stairs, wondering what she should do, how she could fix the situation she had gotten Harry into, what his fate would be, and whether or not it had already been decided.

'Marian.' Her father's gruff voice sounded behind her, and she turned to face him with a jump, scared that her face betrayed the guilt she felt.

'Marian, I would like to speak with you,' he said sternly, and Marian quivered in fear. Had she been or recognised as Harry's accomplice? Is this what he would speak with her about? She tried to read her father's expression, but there was nothing betrayed in his face.

She watched him in suspense as he sat down in his accustomed chair by the fire, leaving her to stand before him, carefully lowering her head and feeling very much like a servant who was to be scolded.

'Now, Marian,' he began. 'I have always been extremely lenient with you, but my patience begins to run out. You are now sixteen years old and it is fair time that you were married. No, do not protest,' he said, interpreting the sudden raise of her head as a sign she was about to speak her mind. 'I have decided, and I'll not change my mind.'

Marian had exhaled in a sigh of relief when her father had begun to speak; it was apparent that she was not about to be carted back to Nottingham to be handed over to the Sheriff. However, as he continued, panic and alarm rose in her throat like acid. She did not like her father's words, however free from the accusation she dreaded they may be.

She still considered herself young, even though she knew many girls were married before her own sixteen years of age. She enjoyed her freedom, and certainly did not desire to be always chained to the home to be some man's slave and breeding sow.

In truth, she wished that she could find a man who she loved well, and he love her in turn, and respected her, and listened to her counsel and wishes. But she had never found such a man, and was growing less confident in their existence. She knew the kind of men that her father would pick out for her.

'You are already nearing the end of the age where most maidens are married,' he said without compassion. 'If I do not act now it will soon be too late, and nobody will have you.'

'But father,' Marian protested. 'I do not want to marry.'

'You'll do what I say!' he snapped. 'I have always been too lenient with you! I should have married you off earlier, there's many a maiden married at twelve.'

'But surely marrying for love is the best way?' she asked. It was a bold question, and she knew it, nor was she surprised at her father's anger.

'The best way is to honour your father, girl!' he shouted, his face growing red with fury as his patience wore thin. 'It is a sin in the eyes of God to go against his wishes! Keep up this dastardly wilfulness, and you shall find yourself dowerless! You'll marry the man I pick out for you!'

Marian's heart sank. She did not trust her father's choice in husband. They were likely to be rich, vile, and without an ounce of compassionate blood in their veins.

'Now, go and make yourself ready,' he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Marian looked up, startled. Ready for what?

'For the Sheriff's annual fair, of course!' he said when she chanced to ask him.

She groaned. How could she have forgotten? Ordinarily, she liked the fair which held music, and dancing and many stalls, as well as an archery competition. She was never allowed to participate in the type of raucous dancing that was present at the fair, but it was always joyful to watch the peasants take part. This year, however, she knew she would not at all like the festivities with the threat of marriage hanging over her head like a dark and ominous storm cloud.

As Marian sat beside her father in their wooden coach, she felt despondent and helpless. She was being driven to a fate she could not avoid, like the coach she was sat in was the prison wagon, and she was being driven to the gaol for imprisonment. Except, in her case, instead of bars, her cell would have four walls and all the comforts of a lavish home.

She stared solemnly out of the window. No doubt, there would be some illegible suitor present at the fair; most of the wealthy families in the area attended the fair to closet themselves up to the Sheriff and try to win his favour. She barely focused on the greenery passing the window, her mind was engaged with the dark prospect of marriage, so she was surprised when the coach trundled to a halt, signifying the joining of the procession of similar coaches into the town.

The fair was a jolly place, with lots of music and dancing, and ale, and there was always an archery competition with a silver arrow for the winner. Usually, Marian enjoyed the fair, but this year, however, the joyful festivities seemed out of place, compared to her mood and fate.

As usual, she was led before the Sheriff, and made to curtsey, all the time keeping her eyes nervously downcast, afraid she should betray any hint that it was she who had managed to break into the castle. She bent to kiss his hand, and tried to release it again, but the Sheriff held on tight, and Marian felt his eyes sweep over her. She held her breath in fear, hoping beyond all that he'd not know her as the accomplice who'd broken into the castle during the night.

'You've a fine daughter, Fitzwalter,' he said. 'She does you credit, my man.'

With that, he released her hand, and Marian breathed once more, and moved quickly aside.

They approached their usual seats, and Marian took her place beside her father, and then, one by one, was introduced to those sitting near them. She recognised a few of the men her father presented her to; they were his old friends, and she had seen them several times at the house. There were several younger men, though, that she did not know. They were the son's of her father's friends, back either from the wars overseas, or from a hunting party, or a journey to London. Each seemed to have some feat to boast of, and a reason why he was lately returned. She noticed with disgust that they all looked her over with a keen eye, though while they themselves said nothing, their father complimented Lord Fitzwalter on what a fine young woman she had grown into.

She wondered if any of these men would be interested in her if they knew of her night time jaunts, and smiled as she thought of their faces upon this discovery. She was tempted to ask them about the state of the counties poorest families, and what they were prepared to do about it, but did not have high hopes at the answer's she'd get. So instead sat there, pretending to watch the archery closely, and ignoring their comments to her, evading their questions.

'My Lady Marian,' a man addressed her, his name she did not know. This one was one of the younger ones, tall, but with an unpleasant leer constantly upon his face, and a haughty look in his grey eyes. She turned to him, uninterestedly.

'I sense your pleasure in these festivals,' he said, nodding towards the competitors, lined up neatly, waiting to take their turn to fire their arrow into the heart of the brightly coloured target.

'Yes,' she said, turning back to watch as a short, stocky man misfired his arrow so that it barely even snagged the covering cloth. 'I take great enjoyment in them.'

'As do I, my Lady, and I assure you that I am unparalleled on the archery field.'

'Then why do you not participate in this?' she asked, deliberately ignoring his attempt at recommending himself. The young man was doing his best to try and engage her in conversation, but Marian would not look at him and kept her eyes fixed on the target.

The man gave a snort of contempt. 'Take part in such crude festivities as this? It would be unsporting of me to lend my hand in a competition designed for the peasantry. We should not deny them their fun.'

'I daresay that you would find yourself pleasantly challenged,' Marian said, finally turning to look the man square in the eye. 'After all, these men's lives depend on their bows; if they do not hit the mark, they do not eat.'

'Marian!' her father's voice flared up a warning tone, and he turned to apologise to the man. 'Prey forgive my daughter, she does not mean all she says.'

'Nay, nay, do not worry, Lord Fitzwalter,' the man laughed. 'I find your daughter's conversation engaging. I wonder if it would be no small matter if you and your gracious daughter would be my guests at a hanging that is due to take place on the morrow?'

Marian sighed inwardly. She did not much like these barbaric events her father was so keen on, and always tried to find a way out of being taken to them.

'A hanging, you say?' her father piped up, his interest suddenly claimed.

'Yes. Noon, here in Nottingham.' The man replied. 'It would be an honour to be able to entertain you as my guests, Lord Fitzwalter.'

Marian turned her head slightly to catch his reply, anxiously. To her disappointment, he nodded his head curtly, and thanked the man.

'Who's to hang?' he added out of interest.

'Oh, just some ruffian,' the man said. 'He was caught last night, apparently. Trying to steal the Sheriff's money.' he added in a whisper.

Marian froze, feeling everything in her body drain out of her to be replaced with lead, and, for the first time since that morning, she remembered Harry. Shamed that burned like hot coals lit beneath her coursed through her body. She had been to preoccupied with her own trivial worries to think about the man who had saved her from the fate he now faced.

'Yes, they're hunting for a second man too,' the suitor carried on, but Marian didn't hear.

Harry.

Hanging.

The words rang though her head like a bell. It was all her fault. She had begun the arguing, and they were discovered! She had to rescue him. She had not a clue how to, but still, she had to try, she could not live with the strain of a man's life weighing on her conscience.

'Marian, are you now well?' her father asked, peering at her curiously. 'You are as white as a sheet!'

'No' she stuttered. 'I do not feel well at all. I think 'tis the heat.'

'Come, I shall take you home.'

He helped her to her feet, for she found that she could not easily stand, and soon they were away, returning back home.

Lord Fitzwalter saw Marian put to bed, and then went out immediately. When she was sure he was gone, she rose from the bed, and went to find Alice. Would she know? If she did not, how could she break it to her? Her heart was aching for the woman, yet trembling for her own fear, which angered her only further; she had no right to feel fear when Harry was facing death. Marian walked into the kitchen, and found Alice sat at the scrubbed table where she and Harry had sat and talked only yesterday.

It was evident immediately that the woman knew. She was slumped over the table, one elbow rested on it. Even though her back was towards her, Marian knew she was close to tears.

'Alice?' Marian said tentatively, putting her hand on the old woman's shoulder as she drew closer.

Alice gave a sniff, and Marian drew her into a hug.

'Alice, I am so sorry!' she rocked the cook back and forth, just as she had done to a younger Marian, years and years ago. Eventually, they drew apart, and fresh tears were cascading down Alice's cheeks.

'He was a good lad!' she sobbed into her handkerchief. 'Would never even hurt a fly! What was he doing there? I know he was never one for rules, but what he was doing stealing the Sheriff's money...' she broke down.

Marian couldn't speak. She couldn't tell the poor woman that it was her fault that her son was going to die.

'He was always one for good deeds, I do not believe it was for himself that he risked his life. Oh the foolish, foolish boy!'

Marian couldn't stand it, the guilt was tumbling round and round in her mind, aching to be relieved.

'Alice,' she said gently. 'It is my fault.'

'Nay, do not be silly, child,' Alice said reprovingly. ''Tis not your fault. You did not order him to the castle.'

'Aye, I may not have ordered him forth, but it is my fault,' Marian insisted. 'It is. There is something you do not know.'

Alice turned to look at her.

'Last night, Harry woke me and told me to follow him, saying there was something he wanted to show me.' Marian began. 'He took me to Nottingham Castle. We fooled the guards and crept to where the treasure was. He wanted to show it to me, to show me how corrupt the Sheriff was.' She stopped, a few tears spilling down her own cheeks this time. 'I wanted to steal some of it, to take to the poor, to ease their suffering, but Harry, sensibly, would not let me. I started shouting at him, arguing. We were overheard.

'He shouted at me to hide, and I did what he told me. He ran towards the guards and they caught him, but he kept on struggling, drawing the guards away from where I was hidden. It took all of them, I don't know how many but I think quite a few, to drag him away, leaving the path clear for me to escape.'

She looked at Alice, tears pouring down her face, expecting the cook to shout at her, hit her, but instead, she drew Marian into a hug, and the two women wept together.

'I still do not blame you, Marian.' Alice told her. 'Thank you for telling me that my boy was a hero. I can now remember him for his bravery. Thank you.'

'You shall remember him for more.' Marian said, wiping away her tears. 'I intend to rescue him.'


	5. Chapter Four

In the morning, the house was buzzing with activity and many preparations were being made; colourful banners were being erected, and great baskets of fruit and other food were being brought into the house, along with barrels of ale, and pots so large that Marian herself could have sat comfortable in their bellies where were being carried through to the kitchen. There were many more people around than usual, and all of them in a great state of excitement most of them Marian did not recognise, which was unusual; she knew everyone who worked for her father, and all the local farmers and tradesmen, so who were these people? And what was all this in aid of?

She sought out her father, who was busy directing a man with a donkey drawn cart laden with fruit round to the back entrance of the house.

'Ah, Marian,' he beamed when he saw her.

'Father,' she replied, staring after the man. 'What is all this in aid of?' She gestured to the colourful bunting strung between trees.

'You will be glad to know, my darling, that William de Holt had made me an offer for your hand in marriage!' he smiled at her.

Marian stared at him, shocked, as heart plummeted.

'I have accepted him! The announcement will be made at the hanging this afternoon, after whence we shall come back here and the celebrations shall commence!'

'But father,' Marian objected, hotly. 'You did not consult me! You did not ask me who I wished to marry, or even if I even wanted to marry!'

'It does not matter.' He scoffed at her. 'I chose the right one. William's father has plenty of land and wealth which he will inherit upon his father's death, and William himself has a grand fortune. He will make a fine husband as any maiden of your status in society could wish for.'

'But I do not want to marry!' Marian cried, ignoring her father's obvious anger at her words. 'I do not want to be bound to some fat old hog, to come and go as he pleases, to lose all my freedom and liberty!'

Face red with anger, Lord Fitzwalter slapped Marian hard across the face.

'You'll do as I say! It is a sin to disobey you father!' he roared. 'Lord de Holt's coach arrives soon. Make yourself ready.'

With her cheeks stinging with the force of her father's hand, Marian fled upstairs, hot tears of anger streaming down her face, her body pulsing with rage. She would not put up with this injustice, she vowed. She was fed up, fed up with how society denoted that men should rule over their women, to force them to do their will and to call anything less than absolute obedience a sin.

It was a sad reflection, she thought, for the state of the world, too. England was being choked from the top down like a weed that grew and looped itself around the bright, colourful plants already growing there, throttling them out of their way. The harsh hands of the nobles were slowly squeezing tighter and tighter like a snake with its prey, and soon, the people would break and burst. Good, honest people like Harry were being forced to lie and cheat and steal in order to survive, all for the benefit of the few at the top who gained from the suffering of the masses. It was disgusting, Marian thought.

She knew that her future husband would be just the same, just as cruel and as punishing and relentless on those around him. She would show him, she would show them all that she would not stand for it. She would not follow their rules, she had no intention of submitting dutifully to her father's will. It would all rest of the events of the coming noon.

She did not have a plan for rescuing Harry, but she did not care,. She knew that she could not let him die, and in her present state, that was enough. She did not think about what would happen if she was unsuccessful, she did not care. Failure was not an option. She was out to prove that someone out there still cared enough about what happened in her country. She would fight, fight against their injustice.

If she had no better plan, she would simply ride full pelt at the stocks and haul him away, and be gone. She supposed that by doing this, she would probably get herself outlawed. She stopped pacing for a second. If she did so, she could never return home again, that would be certain. Her father would surely not forgive her for such defiance, and she would be disgraced. She stared around at her room, and thought of all the comforts she would forgo.

She shook her head, angrily. None of that mattered when an innocent man's life was at stake. Doing what was right was the only possible course of action, the only course of action she wanted to take. If she hesitated, and put the comforts of a wealthy life above all else, she would be no better than the barons who fought for their own gain, regardless of who may get hurt in the crossfire.

No, she thought, it would not be such a bad thing, to defy and be disgraced and thrown from her home. She would not have to marry that wretched man, full of arrogance and his own self importance. She would have no ties of society pulling her back, or holding her down. She would be free, free to live her life how she would, with nobody to order her, or suppress her. She would take to the woods and live off the land. She would be wild, and untamed, and free. Yes, she thought, it would be glorious.

For a while, she allowed herself to be overwhelmed with the idea of the freedom she would have, a breeze wafted its way through the room from the open windows, and Marian tasted the scent on the air, the smell of resin and bark, and leaves. It seemed to be calling out to her, telling her that her ideal was out there. _Not long,_ she told it, _I'll not be long._

But then, the breeze disappeared, and her situation dawned on her again like a great monster creeping out of the shadows, creeping close and closer; she could either fight or run.

She knew before she even began to contemplate the idea what she would do; she would fight.

She walked into the kitchen with the solemn air of a young woman resigned to her fate, and while she was sure nobody was looking in her direction, she took the sharpest, longest knife that hung upon the wall, and hid it quickly under her cloak. She also took some bread and some cold meat and a cup of ale in the pretence that she wanted a quick meal.

After she was clear of the kitchen, she ran back to her room and cut a length of cloth away from her bed linen with the knife, awed at how smoothly and cleanly it sliced through the material, and wrapped it round the blade so she'd not get injury from it, and tucked it in her belt; she could easily conceal its presence with her voluminous cloak and a few folds of her gown. She also reached under her bed and pulled out the boots that she had taken from the groom, knowing that under the length of her skirts, nobody would be any the wiser. She crossed to her dresser and adorned her fingers with many rings and put her finest necklace round her neck, and jewelled hairpins in her hair. If anyone saw her thus attired, they would assume that she was merely doing her best to impress her betrothed, but Marian knew that these pieces of jewellery were costly, and she could easily trade them to keep herself fed in her new life of freedom. Finally, she put on her thickest, warmest cloak. She would be warm while she waited, but she'd not freeze during the winter months.

-

She crept into the kitchen, and when she was sure that there was nobody looking in her direction, she took the sharpest, longest knife that the cook had hung up on the wall, and hid it under her cloak. She ran back to her room, and cut a length of cloth from her bed linen with it, awed by the swift, smooth, sharp cutting action it made, and wrapped it round the blade and stuck it in her belt, just under her arm where it would be well concealed but within easy reach. She also pulled on the boots and breeches that she wore when she rode into the village at night. They could be concealed if she put a long gown on. Upon her fingers, she put many rings and round her neck, many jewels. These, she could trade to keep herself fed in her new life of freedom. Finally, she put on her warmest cloak. She would be warm while she waited, but it would come in handy when she was free.

A little while later, her father came to visit her in her room. Marian, sitting in front of the small mirror she had been given by him on her sixteenth birthday, froze, remembering her sore cheek.

'Marian,' he said with an air of gentle tenderness. 'I am sorry I struck you. I only want the best for you, you know.'

Ordinarily, Marian would have been fooled by his words, and his manner, but now she could see through this facade. There was something about the way he spoke that was stiff and uncaring. He didn't mean what he was saying. He never did. Every move he made regarding her was for his own gains. He didn't care if William de Holt would love or care for Marian, he only cared about his reputation, and having the honour to be connected intimately with the powerful family of de Holt.

She smiled at him, forgivingly. If he can lie like this, so can I, she thought, savagely.

'I know, father.'

'Come, William's coach is here.' He said, turning for the door. 'I am to ride behind. There is some business I have to discuss with my groom.'

Standing from her vantage point upon a dais in the square, Marian could see straight over the heads of the people of Nottingham to the gallows. Outwardly, she appeared a calm, collected, privileged young woman, out for a day's entertainment, but inside, she was planning the escape of the

prisoner she had come here to see put to death. Her heart was pulsing with adrenaline, and she was quivering with nerves and anticipation.

Several times, William de Holt had tried to speak to her and string up a conversation, but she had dismissed him, answering with only a few words.

She was terrified of what she was about to do, but she was determined. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be guards armed to the teeth. She wondered if this was ever going to work.

She had to try, she reminded herself. It was her fault she was in this situation, her fault Harry was in this situation, and that both their lives were at stake.

She watched as the Sheriff climbed onto the gallows.

He opened his mouth to speak and address the crowd, but Marian did not hear the words.

Suddenly there was a rattle of a cart, and there was Harry, being dragged out of the wagon and roughly pulled through the crowd. He looked thin and gaunt. His clothes were torn, and there was a long red cut on his cheek.

Suddenly, all her fear was gone. She watched tensely, poised like a cat about to pounce, as he was led up the steps, and a noose fastened round his neck.

The Sheriff raised his arm, and as he dropped it and the trapdoor was pulled away, Marian sprang into life. She knocked a nearby guard to the floor, and swung herself up onto his horse. With a cry, she urged the horse through the crowd, unsheathing her knife as she did so.

She was only partially aware of the crowd parting suddenly before her, the Sheriff screaming for his guards, her father and William de Holt, staring, mouths open in surprise and shock.

Not stopping to think, she leaped from her horse to the gallows, grabbed hold of Harry's swinging body, having no time to check for life, and with one swift stroke, cut clean through the rope suspending him in the air.

She dragged Harry, coughing and spluttering off the gallows and hauled him onto the stolen horse. She cut the ropes binding his hands, and with a great, triumphant cry, spurred the horse straight at the line of guards that had formed to block her escape, scattering them in every direction.

She rode hard, not seeing several men pulling out bows from under their cloaks and rushing to cover their escape. She rode through the town, not caring about people in the way, bent on reaching the gates before the word spread.

Mercifully, they were still open, and she urged the horse on, and they galloped through and into the countryside.

_**Thanks to everyone who has read this. **_

_**Please review, this is my first fan fiction so every comment is welcome!**_

_**more to come :)**_


	6. Chapter Five

As they galloped further from the town, Marian was aware of Harry taking more and more control of where they were headed. His hands were wrapped tightly around her waist, but every so often he would take hold of the reins and steer the horse in the direction he wanted. As they fled the town, Marian was only was semi aware of the guards that were hot on their tail, bows drawn, but somehow, their arrows never seemed to hit.

Before long, either because of their speed, or because of their constant change of direction, they had lost their pursuers.

'Into the trees!' Harry shouted at her, and Marian steered the horse down an overgrown path and they plunged between branches with a great crash and splintering of wood.

At a steadier pace now, Marian let the horse pick out a path to follow, and soon they had joined a well trodden leafy track that lead into the heart of the forest.

Harry jumped off the horse's rump and Marian slid out of the saddle after him.

'Are you alright?' she asked. There was a bright red mark on his neck where the noose had rubbed his skin raw.

Harry grinned and enveloped her in a huge hug.

'Brilliant!' he replied. 'You were fantastic. I owe you so much.'

'Do not think of it.' She replied, shyly.

'What made you do that?' he asked, his voice and eyes so full of gratitude, Marian was embarrassed to look at him.

'It was my fault you were caught.' She replied, staring at the ground. 'I had to do something.'

'You did not have to rescue me.' He told her seriously. 'I was prepared to die as a protest against the injustice of this land. But I thank you with all my heart that you saved me to fight another day. I am eternally indebted to you.'

Marian smiled nervously at the seriousness of his voice, uneasy for a moment, but then Harry laughed merrily and put his arm about her shoulder and, taking hold of the horse's reins, steered her on down the path.

'What is to become of us?' she asked as they strolled easily along the lush forest path.

'Well, we are both outlaw's for sure now.' He smiled. 'Do you mind that? We shall have to live here in the forest, it will not be like the comfort you are used to. It will be a hard life.'

'I do not mind. It is what I have always wished for. To be free from propriety and obligations to my father.' She said, staring round at her new surroundings, the tall, earthly oaks and scented bracken. Then she smiled cheekily. 'I wrecked a possible marriage to a very rich man for this.'

Harry laughed.

As they walked on, Marian began to notice that she was being led more purposely than before. Harry was walking meaningfully and with purpose, rather than the leisurely stroll he had started off with.

'Where are we headed?' she asked. 'It is if you are guiding me somewhere.'

'You shall see when we get there.' Harry said, winking at her.

They continued to trudge along, leaving the main path and joining a smaller one, which twisted and turned in many directions. They took many forks

and turnings, so many that Marian feared that they would soon be lost, but Harry seemed to know where he was going. Darkness fell and the trees were thick about them by now, they seemed to be closing in on every side, wild, dark trees with sinister branches waving wildly, trying to grab hold of anything that passed through. This did not seem to faze Harry though, he strode on more determined and at a faster pace than ever, on and on into thicker and wilder parts of the forest where the wind howled and transformed the trees into shrieking, creaking demons, madly casting their wild branches about, trying to catch hold of anything that moved...

And then suddenly, he stopped. It was so sudden that Marian, keeping her terrified eyes on the trees nearly collided into him. She uttered a muffled cry, and Harry held his hand up to silence her.

Peering into the trees about him, he raised his hands to his mouth and blew three eerie bird calls. Slowly, he lowered his hands again, to rest, tensely on his belt where his dagger was fastened, and out of the darkness came one echoing call.

It seemed to be the signal Harry was waiting for, for he relaxed and turned to smile at Marian.

'Come.' He said and strode off along the path, following the call.

Soon, Marian began to hear merry chatter, and as it grew louder, the trees were illuminated with a warm orange glow.

Suddenly, they burst through a bush into a large clearing filled with people. There was a fire crackling merrily in the centre and over it hung a great haunch of venison, roasting on a spit.

There was a great cheer as the occupants of the clearing turned to see Harry and Marian, and many of the men came to greet Harry, slapping him joyfully on the back.

Who were all these people?

Harry took her hand and led her closer to the fire.

'Robin!' he called.

A lad no older than Harry rose from a large log near the fire. He was not as tall as Harry was, but he was far more handsome, Marian thought to herself, blushing. His hair was a woody brown and his eyes as green as the forest surroundings, his skin as tanned as the bracken. He seemed as if he was part of the forest himself, all clad in green as he was.

He made his way over to them and gave Harry a great hug.

'Welcome back!' he cried.

'It's good to be back! I never thought I would see this place again!' Harry smiled fondly around the clearing.

Marian waited patiently at his side, wondering who on earth these people could be.

'And all of it thanks to this brave young lady!' the strange lad called Robin said, smiling at Marian.

She smiled back at him, nervously.

'Almost as good a plan as what I had planned.' He grinned. 'Did you not see us? We were disguised under our hoods and cloaks, but we also set out to Nottingham today to rescue a great friend and comrade.'

'But she got to me first!' Harry laughed and slapped Robin on the back.

'Beaten to the gallows by a fancy rich girl!' Robin said in a manner that was supposed to be jokey, but Marian was not impressed. He took her for some rich, spoilt, pampered maiden, but had she just proved she was not so? Who was he to judge her, anyway?

'I must say,' he continued. 'You were nearly as good as me.'

Marian stared at him in distaste. He was very cocky and arrogant, and she did not like him one bit.

'Who are you?' she asked contemptuously.

'I am Robin of Loxley, leader of this small band of men.' He gestured about him at the men scattered around the clearing. Most of them, Marian saw, were scarcely lads. 'And the best archer in the county.'

He winked at her.

'What are you doing here?' she asked. 'How do you know Harry?'

'We grew up together, in Loxley, but did not see each other when I went to live in Nottingham, but our paths crossed again some months ago.' Harry told her.

'This is my camp.' Robin told her. 'These men are outlaws, and I am their leader.'


	7. Chapter Six

Marian decided that she did not much like this cocky, foolish young man. Everything he said to her was full of arrogance and a self worship that Marian could not stand.

She followed Harry and got herself a piece of roast venison, and to her annoyance, Robin followed them and even sat down beside her, trying to joke and laugh with her. What annoyed her the most was that he constantly winked at her, after every joke he cracked, as if she was his mere sidekick who tagged after him for her own amusement.

'Are all these men outlaws?' she asked him, genuinely curious in spite of all her feelings towards him.

'Yes,' he replied. 'They have been set outside the law for one crime or another. Many fled here to escape more serious punishments. The Sheriff and his men do not dare search this forest. There are less savoury characters in these parts.'

'And what was your crime?'

Suddenly, there was a shrill whistle from one of the lads, a short, under-grown youth with rosy cheeks, making them both jump and stare in the direction the noise had come from. Robin was alert at once, striding off to speak to him in a low voice, then striding off into the trees, the short lad with him.

Though Marian saw many of the others glance at this, none made a comment or even let an emotion pass their face, just carried on in their merriment.

Later that evening, Marian settled down close to the fire to sleep. Harry had decided that it was best if they stayed at the camp tonight, they would talk more clearer in the morning. To be honest, Marian thought that he was just happy to be still alive, having resigned himself to not lasting till sunset, and did not want to think about much save the joys of living.

It was early in the morning when Marian awoke, stiff and cold from sleeping on the hard floor. As she stretched awkwardly, she thought longingly of her soft, feather bed back at the house she had lived in. Already, people were buzzing around the clearing, even though the sun was barely up and the first rays of the fresh sun were streaming between the leaves above.

Marian struggled to her feet, tripping over the long, elaborate gown she was wearing. In annoyance, she looked round for a place to take it off and reveal the breeches she wore underneath with the plain shirt.

As she wandered back to the clearing after having changed behind a tree, she saw Robin riding back into the clearing looking pale and drawn. Evidently he had not slept that night, and Marian wondered where he had been. There was something incredibly mysterious about the lad.

Harry made his way over to her.

'Good morning.' He smiled. 'Sleep well?'

'As well as any can on the floor of the forest.' She replied, massaging her sore neck.

'We need to decide what to do today.' He said, munching on an apple. 'Do we stay here or move on somewhere else? Do you have any thoughts?'

'I have been thinking, I would like to go back to my home,' Marian said. 'To take a few things.'

Harry nodded slowly, chewing the thought over in his head.

'I am not overly sure it would be the best thing to do.' He said. 'It will be very dangerous.'

'Do not worry, I know secret paths where we will well concealed.' Marian said. 'I can creep in and take a few things. We can ask your mother for provisions too.' She argued.

Robin came over to them and clapped his hand onto Marian's shoulder. She shrugged it off, angrily, the taunt about her privileged upbringing still fresh in her mind.

'I have business in that village.' He said. 'We can set you as far as the house. Then we are near if you run into trouble.'

Harry sighed after a long pause then agreed. Robin and a few of his men were to ride with them through the forest and leave them at the house while they carried onto the village.

As there was not enough horses, Marian rode pillion behind Harry, with Robin leading the way with three lads, the small lad with whom he had left with last night, whose name was Much, Marian learned, a tall, dark, slender lad called Will Scarlet and a scruffy looking man who looked older than the rest, and whose name was Alan a' Dale. His crime, he told Marian, was nothing more than to shoot a deer in the King's Royal Hunting ground to try and feed his mother and younger brothers and sisters, but had been caught by the foresters who patrolled the place. His father had been dragged off to Nottingham gaol for not paying the taxes they could not afford and had died of gaol fever there.

As Marian listened to his tale, she could not help but think of the poor, sad families camping on the roads, starving, and she saw them in Alan's eyes too. He feared the worst for them, but did not speak of it.

They rode at a steady pace, not wishing to draw suspicion to themselves, and arrived at the place where the forest drew near to the house after a few hours in the saddle.

Harry and Marian dismounted as the rest rode away, and secured their horse loosely to a tree, ready to make their getaway. They crept slowly to the border of the forest and checked for any possible danger in the open before rushing to the house.

Marian decided to sneak in the back, and she was just about to lift the latch on the door, when there was an ear piercing shriek behind them.

Marian froze in terror, fearing they'd been discovered, but she needn't have worried, for it was Alice who called their names.

'Mother!' Harry said, shocked at the huge embrace she gave the both of them.

Marian's surprise grew when she raised her hand and struck her son hard across the cheek.

'You fool!' she shouted at him, as Marian tried to suppress her giggles. 'You would have been killed! It is lucky for you that I introduced you to Marian!' then suddenly she rounded on Marian, and she almost shrank away. Alice seemed to swell fit to burst when she was angry.

'And you, I have not a clue what you thought you were doing!' but then the anger broke, and she smiled kindly at her. 'But I am very glad you did, my love. Why have you come here?'

'I wish to take a few of my old things.' Marian told her warily. She was half expecting another sudden mood swing, Alice could be very formidable. 'How did my father react to me?'

Alice laughed. 'Oh I have never seen him more angry! He raged and cursed you for your foolishness and the embarrassment you caused him in front of William de Holt!' she stopped laughing and her tone became serious. 'You realise you've outlawed yourselves? I am breaking the law standing here talking to you. Your father would turn you in, so you must not come across his path.'

'Is he here?' Marian asked, unsurprised at what Alice told her, yet slightly hurt all the same.

'Aye,' she said. 'But he's busy in his study. I'll make sure he'll not find you upstairs.'

Marian whispered her thanks, and leaving Harry with his mother, she stole quietly and quickly into the house. She crept silently upstairs and into her rooms, where she lifted from its hiding place behind a beam, a small bag clinking with coins, and tied it to her belt.

She stood for a moment, taking in the air of the room and its contents. It was a different person who had lived in this room, a different girl. The old Marian was gone, she had been replaced by Marian of Sherwood.


	8. Chapter Seven

As Marian stared round at the almost alien contents of her room, it seemed like they were whispering her name, muffled hissing, warning her away, getting louder and louder... and then she realised there _was_ someone calling her name.

'Marian!' Alice burst wildly into the room. 'Marian! You must get out!' she cried frantically. 'The Sheriff is here, with his men. Armed guards! Come!' she grasped her by the arm and pulled her out of the room and along the concealed servants passages that lead to the kitchens, where Harry was waiting, half hidden in a corner, fidgeting nervously. When she came rushing in with Alice, he grabbed hold of her arm, tightly.

'We should never have come here!' he hissed at her.

He pulled her out of the door and round the side of the house, but Marian resisted.

'No!' She whispered. 'My horse! We need another horse!

'There's no time!' Alice ushered them on, but Marian was determined.

'No!' Marian pulled free of Harry's grasp and ran back towards the stables, near to the road that led past the house, where the Sheriff and his men, along with her father, were bound to be. Aware of Harry and Alice furiously calling her back, she crept into the stable and stole along the rows of horses, quietly snorting and shuffling in their stalls, finally coming to her own bay.

'Yes, my Lord.' The voice of her father's groom sounded at the end of the stables.

'Yes, Sheriff, the very best stables.' Her father said. 'I shall see to it myself.'

Marian froze.

'Actually, Lord Fitzwalter, I shall accompany you.' The harsh voice of the Sheriff echoed through the quiet stable. 'You seem incapable of controlling that outlaw daughter of yours, why should I trust you with my horses? They are very valuable beasts.'

Marian was panicking in earnest now. How would she get out of this? They were bound to come past this stall, the best loose boxes were all at the back of the stable. One wrong move and she would be discovered and taken prisoner. She crouched low in the straw, hiding behind the horse, preying nobody would look in closely. The footsteps were drawing nearer and nearer, each step made her heart beat faster and faster, until they were level with the stall. Marian's heart was beating so fast that she felt faint. She saw three pairs of human feet and four horses walk past and for a scant moment, one of the feet, shod in strong leather boots paused outside the stall. The tension in the air was so strong, Marian felt it would snap, she would make a slight movement and she would be found... but the feet moved on towards the back of the stable.

Quickly, Marian slipped the horses bridle over its head, and reached for the saddle, but dropped it in her haste and the sound crashed through the stable, drawing the heads of the groom, her father and the Sheriff in her direction.

For one moment, Marian met her father's eyes and he stared at her in disbelief, in surprise, in parting, almost in love and forgiveness.

The Sheriff cried as he saw her.

'You've been hiding her Robert!'

Quickly, Marian vaulted onto the horse and rode it bareback, kicking it down the aisle of the stable and out into the bright sunlight, riding down the guards.

'Harry!' she screamed, and he came rushing round the other side of the house. She held out her arm and caught his and hauled him up onto the horse and made for the forest and plunged into the trees, finding the other horse they had left earlier. Harry sprang from one horse to the other and wheeled it round to see the commotion unfolding.

The Sheriff had knocked Marian's father to the floor.

'Marian Fitzwalter!' he cried, face red with anger as he ordered his men to scour the forest. 'I hereby brand you an outlaw of society! Never again shall you freely enter civilisation, ever shall you be hunted, till you are found and dragged to the gallows! Burn the house!'

Marian watched, horrified, as men bearing blaming torches rushed into the house and terrified servants fled out of it.

'Come!' Harry shouted, as the Sheriff's guards began to draw near to the trees. He turned and urged his horse into the depths of the forest, Marian following.

Minutes later, there was a shout, not the savage cry of a pursuer, but the welcoming cry of a friend. Robin was calling to them, beckoning them to follow him. They followed him a different path to the way they had come, but it was effective nonetheless and soon all signs of pursuit had vanished.

'What was going on there?' he asked as he reined in his horse.

For a moment, neither Marian or Harry answered. Marian tried to catch Harry's eye, but he was avoiding it.

'We were nearly caught.' She told Robin, finally.

Harry looked grim.

'Let's go.' Was all he said.

'What business did you have in the village?' Marian asked Robin, trying to take her mind off the image of her burning home, her childhood refuge, ablaze, smouldering in ruin.

'Secret business.' He said giving her that abominable wink that she despised so much.

'More importantly, what business did you have?' he asked.

'That is my own.' She replied pertly, pressing the bag of coins close to her side. She did not want Robin to know of her charity.

He threw back his head and laughed at her cheek.

Marian urged her horse forward so she rode on her own, thinking about the Sheriff's words.

'"Never again shall you freely enter civilisation"'

'"Ever shall you be hunted."' She would know what it would be like to have a price on her head.

Once, when she was very little, her father had taken her to Nottingham to the hanging of an outlaw. She had asked who he was, and why he was to die.

"He is an enemy of the law, a threat to our society." He had said. "The highest price ever."

She had asked what that meant.

"The price for his life. Every time he defied the law, the price on his head rose."

She had looked into the man's eyes and realised that he had been hunted and his life had been bought and bartered for. How terrible, she had said to her father, to have your life worth so little.

Her father had laughed and told her the man had deserved what he was getting.

Now she would be living that man's life.


	9. Chapter Eight

They rode sedately back to the camp, each thinking their own thoughts, nobody speaking much.

The camp was quiet, the solemn mood seemed to have swept over them all, a startling contrast to the merriment of the previous evening. Marian sat, staring into the depths of the fire, chewing the Sheriff's words over in her head. She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she did not notice Alan sit down gently beside her.

'It is hard,' he said softly, making Marian jump. 'When you are first cast from society.'

'I do not know why.' Marian sighed. 'I have never wanted that society. I have always broken its rules, so I do not understand why I am so sad that I can never return to it.'

'Because you have nothing to return to. Nothing to fall back on.' He told her.

'You are right.' She said, still staring into the fire. 'I rode out to the village most nights, but I knew I could always come back home, go on pretending and be safe. Now I will never be.'

'Every man here knows what it feels like.' Alan said gently.

Marian looked around at the men. Someone had taken up a pipe and was trying to raise spirits, and laughter had broken out.

Robin was among them laughing merrily, striding round the clearing, playing with an arrow that was in his hands.

'What was his crime?' She asked, curiously.

Alan sighed.

'Now he, he is a mystery.' He told her. 'Nobody knows who he is, only that he came from Loxley and his name is Robin. More than that, I cannot say.'

'Do you not ask him?' Marian asked, surprised.

'Oh, we all have asked him at one time or another. He never answers. It must be a tale of great sadness.' He sighed.

Marian murmured in agreement. She wondered why such a cocky youth would conceal something that Marian was sure he would boast about. He boasted about everything else, so why not this?

She stared at him, wondering about his tale. She made her mind up to ask him if he sat down next to her again, as he had done the previous night. She would not go to find him, that was for sure. He seemed to have developed this notion in his head that she seemed to find him irresistible, and this annoyed her greatly.

As she had expected, at supper, Robin took up his place next to her and tried to laugh and joke with her, but Marian was having none of it.

'How was it that you were outlawed?' she asked. 'What was your crime?'

Robin's face turned dark, and he stared into the fire, avoiding her questioning eyes.

'It must be a great tale, if you will not tell anyone.' She said, trying to ebb it out of him, but his face grew stonier and stonier, and he shifted awkwardly. 'I am sorry if it is a sad story, but you see, I am just curious. Now I am made outlaw too.'

At this, he seemed almost embarrassed, and would not look her in the eye, or even turn his head toward her.

'Nobody knows where you came from.' She said. 'So-'

He turned to her, and she was cut off.

'Shh!' he hissed. 'I'll tell you, even though I have told nobody else. Only one other knows this story, and that is because he witnessed it.'

Marian was surprised, but didn't have time to say anything before he continued.

'I am the son of Lord Fitzooth of Loxley.' He said. 'My father one day threw some of his tenants out of their house because they could not pay the rent. They had lived there all their lives and were good and loyal to my father, but he threw it all back in their faces. I hated to see this happening to them, and I told my father so. I stood up for them. I shouted at my father in front of all his villagers and serfs, humiliated him as he was humiliating them. I was cast out, disinherited by my father. I took to the forest with the son of the miller, whom my father had evicted. That boy who accompanied me was Much.

'So you see, I am not an outlaw, just some privileged fool.'

Marian was stunned and amazed by his confession to her.

'Why have you not told anyone?' she asked

'I do not want my men to think less of me!' he said.

'Much clearly doesn't.'

'He is one. The others are all peasants and have been outlawed for petty crimes they could not avoid. They see me as one of them. If I tell them otherwise, they might lose faith in me.'

'Why have you told this to me?' she asked.

Robin shook his head.

'I guess it is because you come from the same background as me.' He said at last.

'Yet I am not ashamed of it, or conceal it.' She told him. 'You mocked me because of my birth, yet I was not ashamed of it. I merely thought less of you.'

He was silent for a while, and then turned to Marian.

'You have proved yourself in front of them.' He said.

'And you have not?' she asked. 'I do not know your business, but if you are the friend Harry spoke of when he showed me the money, I am sure you have.'

At that moment, Much gave another whistle, and Robin jumped up, sharply.

'Come,' he said. 'I'll show you what my men and I can do.'


	10. Chapter Nine

Robin gave a shrill whistle, much different to the one that Much gave. It was a longer, high pitched note of excitement and action

Upon hearing this, the men gave a great cry, and leaped to their feet. Robin selected ten of the lads, Harry, Much, Alan and Will among them, to accompany him. They moved excitedly and quickly around the camp, collecting bows and quivers of arrows and slinging them onto their backs, sheathing small daggers and saddling their horses.

Robin threw Marian a bow and quiver and told her to ready her own horse. Heart beating in excitement and anticipation, she slung the quiver over her shoulder, and put her horses bridle on, and, having no saddle, vaulted up onto its back.

Quickly and quietly, the rest of the lads that were to follow Robin mounted their horses and filed out of the clearing.

Those left behind grumbled slightly as they left, having not been chosen to accompany them, but were soon back in good spirits as they watched the others leave, wishing them good luck, and they settled back down again to wait for their return.

Marian followed Harry's horse as it ambled out of the clearing and along the secret network of paths that kept the outlaw's camp well hidden and near impossible to find if one did not know every inch of the forest and its tracks.

As soon as they joined the wider path, Robin urged his horse into a much faster pace, shouting at the rest to follow, and they rode at breakneck speed through the forest, all the time Marian was wondering where they were headed.

After a few miles, Robin held up his hand, and reined his horse to a standstill, the others following suit.

'Marian,' he said to her. 'I want you to stay in the cover of the trees. Do not move from there, whatever happens.'

'But-' she started in protest.

'No buts.' He shook his head and gave her a serious look. 'It is dangerous. We plan to ambush this company. Lads,' he addressed the others. 'Shall we?'

They all smiled and unslung their bows, each loosely fitting an arrow. They walked their horses slowly to a line of trees, and suddenly, Marian knew where they were. This was the North Road that went through the forest, joining the towns of Nottingham and Sheffield. It was a dangerous road through the forest, the threat of ambush, robbery and even murder were always looming and lurking in the trees, hidden and silent as they were now. Marian's father never made his journey along this road, unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then he would be heavily armed and accompanied by his guards. Robin signalled for hush, and Marian started to hear the clanking of wooden wheels and the snorting of horses, and slowly a wagon trundled into view. Driving it were two men in shabby livery, evidently the workers of a poor lord on the way to Nottingham or to his estate, bringing food and meat.

As the wagon drew nearer, Marian could hear the grooms speaking to one another.

'I hate this stretch of road.' One said. 'We should have gone round.'

'Aye,' said the other. 'But 'tis too late now. We'd best hurry.'

Robin whispered urgently to Marian to wait there, under the cover of trees, while he and the other lads urged their horses forwards, bows bent, menacingly.

The wagon creaked to a halt as Robin and the other lads emerged from the trees.

'I am so sorry, gentlemen.' Robin boomed as he stopped his horse in front of their wagon and pointed his bow at them. 'But this stretch of road requires a toll. Your purses if you please.'

A look of terror crossed one of the men's faces as he looked round and saw they were surrounded. He fumbled quickly in his cloak for his purse, Robin looking on, smiling, but the other man, tall and dark with the face of a rat, stopped him, growing braver and scowling at Robin.

'A young knave like you will not rob me!' he spat, drawing a knife with a flash.

'We only require a small donation, sir.' Robin said. 'Show us what you have, and we shall take but a portion of it and then wish you upon your way.'

'You shant have any of it!' he cried. 'Guards!'

Robin's face changed from a smile to surprise as out of the back of the wagon sprang many armed guards. Quickly, though, he recovered himself and leaped into action, bellowing at the others to join him.

He leaped off his horse and drew his sword, swinging it wildly at the guards, knocking many of them to the floor.

Marian quivered in fright at the scene spiralling out of control in front of her, and in spite of her fear, ached to join them, but Robin's words were firmly echoing in her mind.

Instead, she fitted an arrow to her bow and bent it, poised, pointing it into the fray, watching as Robin and the lads knocked guards over with their swords and fists, but it was clear that they were outnumbered.

Taking deep breaths to steady her arm, Marian loosed several arrows into the melee, to try an confuse their opponents. She saw to her delight that it had worked, they were looking round stupidly to see where the arrows had come from, giving Robin and the others time to knock them to the ground.

But nobody saw the shrewd groom creep up behind Robin, wielding a great stave of wood, until it was too late.

'No!' Marian screamed and fired an arrow at the man as he struck Robin hard across the back with the hefty branch, sending him sprawling to the ground, where he lay, unconscious.

It was in this moment of confusion that the groom shouted to his men, ordering them back into the wagon, while he picked up Robin's lifeless body and slung it after them.

Before any of the lads could act, the groom had whipped his horses into action and, avoiding the shower of arrows that descended on him, galloped back in the direction of Nottingham.


	11. Chapter Ten

Marian burst out onto the path as the wagon dashed past, throwing up leaves and debris on the forest path.

They all turned and cried after the wagon, yet Marian shouted them back.

'No!' she yelled. 'We cannot simply charge after it ill prepared and outnumbered!'

'You want us just to leave him!' Much cried at her, his eyes welling.

'No!' she shouted back. 'We need a proper plan. We need to get back to camp and think about how best to rescue him.'

They all stared at her.

'We will not give him up for lost and leave him to hang.' Harry said, and spurred on his horse, leading the way back to camp.

They were a desolate and bleak party as they rode back into the clearing. The others leaped up, expecting to see coins and hear stories, but they slowed their actions when they saw it was Harry, and not Robin who lead them in.

'Where is Robin?' they asked, peering round, as if they expected him to spring out from behind a tree.

'Captured.' Marian told them, when she realised that none of the others were prepared to divulge his fate.

'And you came back?' one of them asked, savagely.

'We came back to plan how best to rescue him!' Will defended her.

'Have any of you got any ideas?' she demanded. They looked around at each other, stupidly.

Marian sighed in exasperation.

'Nothing?'

'We'll need someone to go to Nottingham to discover his fate.' Alan piped up.

At once, Much raised his hand. 'I'll go. I can get into the town, ask around. I know a few people.'

Marian nodded at him.

'Get going then. Come back when you know what his fate is. We'll make a plan then.'

They all watched as Much scampered off. The next few hours, waiting him to return bearing the news of Robin, were the longest Marian had ever known. They were all tense, shouting at each other for the littlest of things, anxious for their leader, without whom they were not quite the same.

It was some time after midnight when Much cantered back into the clearing, bleary eyed and weary.

They all scrambled to their feet, just as bleary eyed as he, for they had had no sleep.

'He's to hang.' He said into the silence, every pair of eyes on his face. There was a collective draw of breath as he said those words.

'Does anyone have any ideas on how to rescue him?' Marian asked.

There was silence.

'Oh, come on! There must be someone!' she shouted at them. 'I am sure he would risk his neck to save any one of you! Why do you not do the same for him? He told me that you were planning to rescue Harry, how were you going to do that?'

'Ride and steal him from the gallows.' Alan said. 'But you got there first.'

'Will that work this time?' she asked. 'Will there not be more guards because of that?'

'There may be.' Will said. 'But if we masquerade as peasants, and conceal our bows and swords as we did for Harry, we may outnumber them, if enough of us volunteer.'

'Is it to be a public hanging?' Marian asked Much, who nodded.

'The Sheriff wants him to be made an example of, should any other commit a similar crime. He wants to publicly humiliate him.'

'He knows not who he has then?' she asked.

'Why should he? We are not that big a problem to him.' He replied.

'We should be!' she cried, and to her astonishment, the lads all cheered.

Suddenly, there was a pool of offers, and soon, they had a plan established.

Several of them, led by Harry, were to ride straight away for Nottingham and dress as the guards who led the prisoner out, so they could loosely tie his hands and make it easy for his escape.

Some, Marian included, would be in the crowd, heavily disguised, concealing weapons so they were prepared to fight their way out. They were to steal Robin from the gallows and ride away with him, the others following.

The rest were to guard the escape and hold the gate open for their way out. Then they were to disappear among the crowds, melt away through the streets of Nottingham, to rally later in the forest.

Marian had never been busier. She half suspected that if she had not been there, Robin would have been left to die, while they cursed their bad luck and drunk themselves into sorrow.

It appeared that Robin had organised a secret weapon stash in the forest, and a band of lads were dispatched to fetch them, and they came back, arms full of bows, arrows, swords and daggers. The horses were all saddled, and they began to leave for Nottingham by different roads in small groups, for all together they would attract a lot of attention.

Marian and a set of lads dressed as peasants were the last to leave the clearing, just as the first rays of dawn streamed through the trees. Slowly, they ambled along the road, spaced out and not travelling together, giving off the air of simple farmers or villagers on the way to town for one reason or another.

At the gates, Marian suppressed a smile as she saw Harry dressed in full guard regalia, guarding the doors to Nottingham. He winked at her, and she rode close to him.

'All in place.' He whispered, so only she could hear.

As they rode through the town to the main square where the gallows were erected, she kept seeing half familiar faces, disguised or lingering in shadows. As they entered the square, she gave a shiver of familiarity, remembering the last time she was here. This was where it had all began, and seemed a lifetime ago, yet in reality, was only a couple of days.

As people began to file into the square and mill around, she swept her eyes over their faces, checking everyone was in place. There seemed to be a ridiculous number of guards, so many that it seemed absurd and she began to worry that someone would notice that not all seemed well, and alert the Sheriff.

But she calmed herself, thinking that after her rescue of Harry, it may seem only natural that he would want to protect justice.

The loud chattering of the people was suddenly silenced by the harsh blowing of several horns, and the rolling of drums, and the Sheriff appeared on the steps of the castle.

'Dear people of Nottingham!' he cried. 'Our peace is being disrupted and threatened by people like this man!'

He gestured to his right, and the metal bared door opened, and Robin was led out by two guards. One of them, Marian saw, was Alan. He was lead, arms tied behind his back, up the steps of the scaffolding and made to face the crowd.

'This man, this petty common thief,' The Sheriff shouted to the people. 'Is disturbing our right to a peaceful way of life, and threatening the King's stability in this land! He must be punished severely to deter other mindless criminals, so we can live without fear!'

He signalled to the executioner, who made to put the noose around his neck, but just as it was about to slide over his head, Robin freed his hands, and elbowed the man hard in the stomach.

This, the outlaws took to be their signal, and all hell was let loose.

Peasants threw off their cloaks and drew swords and bent bows. Guards attacked guards, and ordinary people screamed in panic.

Marian herself, spurred her horse forwards, firing arrows at the real guards.

'I am Robin, Earl of Loxley and Huntingdon!' Robin cried from the gallows. 'Remember that name, Sheriff! I am no petty common criminal, but a warrior, fighting for justice in this land! And I will continue fighting, until the rightful King Richard is back on the throne of England and you lie beaten in a ditch!'

He threw down one final guard who leaped onto the gallows, and then sprung onto the horse Marian held of him and galloped off with her through the streets of Nottingham.

'Remember my name, Sheriff!'


	12. Chapter Eleven

Back in the clearing, a great celebration feast was being prepared. Several of the lads had returned with a deer carcass slung over their horse's rump, and the smell of roasting venison reeked through the clearing.

Marian kept her distance from Robin, leaving him to his men, who were delighted to have him back and installed as their leader once more. Many of them were shocked at his revelation of his nobility, but none of them showed that it changed the way they felt about him, or showed that they were any less willing to do his bidding.

Someone struck up a tune on a small flute, and they all began dancing. Harry snatched up Marian's hand and led her in a lively jig, and she whirled and twirled, round and round, faster and faster, until she tripped and fell forwards, but suddenly, strong arms caught her and saved her from sprawling to the ground.

She cleared her golden hair out of her eyes to see who her saviour was. It was Robin, smiling gently down at her, his arms wrapped round her waist. In spite of herself, Marian found she returned his smile as she looked up into his hazel eyes.

'There now.' He said, setting her back upon the ground. 'We can't have you taking a tumble.'

Marian smiled at him, and found that she was blushing, and looked after him as he walked away to dance, beckoning her to follow.

Marian awoke the next morning to find the rest of the outlaws sluggish and clutching their sore heads, groaning.

Marian laughed to see them so. She shot a glance over at Robin, who was still sleeping next to the cold ashes of the fire.

Last night they had danced and danced together, and he had rarely left her side. She could not help thinking about the moment he had caught her, how he had looked at her, and she at him. Something had stirred inside her at that moment, and she was not sure if she liked what she felt.

Robin seemed to have changed. Not once had he winked at her, or bragged or boasted or shown off. It was if he had been humbled since his rescue. Marian knew that she liked that, at least.

At last he rose, groggily, and stumbled round the clearing for a while.

'What are we to do?' Much asked him. Marian listened intently, eavesdropping to hear his reply.

'We carry on fighting.' He said loudly, addressing all the men. 'Make the Sheriff fear my name, and all this band of outlaws!' he cried this aloud, and the men cheered.

'But how do we do that?' Alan cried above the din.

'We steal his fortune.' Marian said, and the camp quietened, and every face turned to look at her.

'By doing that, it shows we mean business.' She told them. 'Take it from him, and give it to the people who really need it.'

Robin looked thoughtful.

'If we succeed, he will have be humiliated sorely.' He said. 'It will show that we are not to be taken lightly.' He was silent for a few minutes.

'We need to know where the money has been moved to.' Marian told him. 'After Harry was caught, he will have moved it, no doubt of it.'

'We'll need someone to go in disguise to find out where it is now.' He said, more to her than anyone else.

'I'll go.' She volunteered, but Robin shook his head.

'You don't know the castle well enough.' His tone was not insulting, but practical. 'I'll go instead.'

'Robin,' Much put in. 'You can't go. Everyone will be on the lookout for you. No disguise will work this soon after you escaped from the Sheriff's gallows and openly declared him your enemy!'

'I'll go.' It was Will who volunteered. 'My cousin is one of the Sheriff's guards. I can bribe him to tell me what he knows.'

For a moment, Robin looked as if he did not want this important mission to be undertook by anyone other than himself, Marian could see that he wanted the glory and the danger and the rewards, but he recollected himself, and agreed.

Will set off soon after, escorted to Nottingham by Much and Alan, who were to help him establish his disguise.

By the evening, Much and Alan returned with news that Will was installed in his post as a guard, alongside his less than willing cousin, whom they ad bribed with coins.

The week that past was a tense one. Several times, Marian had to persuade Robin not to go to town to see how Will fared, to assure him that he would perform the task to the very best of his abilities.

It was sunset on the seventh day, when Will came riding back into the clearing.

White faced, Robin rushed over to him before he even had a chance to dismount from is horse.

'Well?'

'The money is hidden in a vault deep within the castle.' He said, grimly. 'Protected by a door two foot thick and five armed guards patrol the corridor. It is located within the heart of the castle, you have to pass through a lot of security to get to it.'

Robin looked darkly down at the ground as Will dismounted.

Marian was about to interrupt him, when Harry nudged her.

'Do not disturb him.' He warned her. 'He is formulating a plan.'

And sure enough, after a few minutes Robin spoke up.

'This will be very difficult, but I do have a plan.' He told them. 'We will be the five guards patrolling the door to the vault.'

Will shook his head. 'The guards are specially appointed. You cannot just waltz up and tell them to go and do something else.'

'Well, we'll tell them we were ordered here, and they are to do something else. Something more important.' He said. 'We'll think of something.'

'How will we get through the door?' Alan asked.

'I know!' Marian exclaimed, suddenly. 'A carpenter who lives in my father's village used to do work for the castle. He is very skilled. If I talk to him I am sure he would be willing to help us!'

Robin looked like he would kiss her.

'Brilliant!' he exclaimed. 'If we disguise ourselves as guards, we can patrol the vault, and allow the carpenter to get us in, we steal the money and escape!'

'How will we persuade the guards already at the door that they are to go elsewhere?' Much asked.

'We make them lose consciousness?' Will suggested.

Harry gave a cry, and dashed to where Marian's elaborate gown hung upon a branch, forgotten since she had flung it there, the day she had rescued him.

'I don't think it will fit you.' Robin smirked.

'No!' he cried. 'Marian! She could dress as an important Lady and persuade them that she wanted only the very best guards to accompany her!'

'Surely the Sheriff would be the only person to order them away from such an important job?' Alan asked.

'The Sheriff's sister!' Robin cried.

'Does the Sheriff have a sister?'

'It does not matter whether he does or not. He does for that day. They would not dare disobey someone as high as that, or who claimed to be.' Robin told them. 'Marian can lead us down to the vault, order the guards already there to follow her, and leave us there! Do we have a plan?'

There was a great cry of agreement, as everyone declared themselves game.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Robin chose himself, Harry, Will, Alan and Much to play the guards that would pace the vault corridor while the carpenter, who Marian went to see the next morning, worked.

Robin insisted on escorting her and having some of his lads hiding in the trees for protection while she spoke with him.

'What do you say?' she asked him, having just finished reciting their plan. Robin looked on darkly from the fence.

'Marian,' said the carpenter, Richard. 'You have always been good to me and my family. I know it was you who used to give us those presents that got us through many a harsh winter day. What will you do with the money?'

'You shall get a cut,' Marian told him. 'But not a very large one. We steal the money to help everyone, but the money you shall be paid will see you through four seasons, at least.' She promised.

Jack thought for a while, before holding out his hand for her to shake, smiling.

'Done.' He said.

Marian leaped forwards and hugged him.

'Thank you!' she exclaimed.

'You were always a kind lass.'

'You'll need to come with us now.' Robin told him, interrupting.

Jack nodded, understanding, and mounted the horse they had brought for him.

'How are you going to get me and my tools down there?' he asked as they rode back through the forest.

'Show the tools to me.' Robin said. Jack showed him the various tools he had in his bag, and that he would need. 'We can conceal them in our armour.'

'And what about me?' he asked.

'When the other guards have gone, Marian will give you a signal, and you rush down.' Robin told him.

He nodded slowly, the weight of his task slowly sinking in.

For the next few days, the clearing where the outlaws lived was like a hive buzzing with activity. People came and went, bringing arrows and knives as a backup plan if they had to fight off an attack. Robin had etched a rough plan of the castle into the dirt in once place, and, once, Will and Harry returned to the clearing driving an enormous cart laden with fruit and veg.

'It can be a cover.' They explained. 'It can stand in the fore-yard of the castle, ready for us to burst out with the money. We can quickly throw it in and make a getaway.'

Robin examined every inch of it, impressed. He appointed a lad named George to be in charge of the wagon, and to make sure it was ready and waiting.

Alan also pointed out that it was a way for some of them to enter the town, hiding hidden amongst the produce, while the lesser known outlaws or those more recognisable heavily disguised, could drive it in, pretending they had a delivery for the castle.

Within a week, every preparation had been made, every course of action had been gone over five times, and every participant briefed so thoroughly, they could have acted out their roles in their sleep.

Marian, Robin, Harry and Will were concealed among the fruit and veg that was slowly turning rotten, clutching their costumes tightly under their arms. George was driving, and Much, Alan, Jack the carpenter and others were following behind at a safe distance and at various intervals so they didn't attract attention.

'Do you regret now your choice to rescue Harry?' Robin whispered to Marian as they crouched, squashed together beneath barrels of rotting apples. It was a stark contrast to her life, even as short a while as a month ago, when she was still living in luxury, pampered and spoilt.

Marian shook her head.

'Not one jot.' She said. 'I am free, and although I go to great danger, I am happy.'

Suddenly, the wagon jolted to an abrupt halt, and there was raised voices issuing from outside.

Marian did not need the gesture Robin gave her to fall deathly silent, as she strained to hear what was going on, not even daring to breath for fear of discovery, afraid that they would be given away even by the pounding of her heart, which seemed absurdly loud in the deafening silence.

Eventually, the wagon moved on, and they breathed a sigh of relief, but they stayed silent, for they could hear the noises of Nottingham outside the wagon.

It trundled to a stop, but this time there came a loud bang on the wood. This was their signal that the coast was clear and they should unload themselves. They sprang lightly out of the wagon, and after checking that they were unwatched, they slipped into the outer passages of the castle, and into an unused guardroom.

Here, they quickly changed from their breeches and loose green shirts into their costumes. The men were changed quickly, but Marian had to enlist the help of Will and Harry and instruct them on how to lace up the gown. When they were done, she had a feeling that it was badly done, but hoped that nobody would pay her much attention.

Alan and Much burst in, making them all jump, and they laughed at the sight of Marian dressed in her best. They had all grown used to the sight of her in her breeches and heavy boots.

She hissed at them angrily, and told them to watch their tongues. As the sister of the Sheriff, she reminded them, she could order them cut out. They all laughed.

When they were all ready and as confident as they ever would be, Marian led the way out, trying not to let it look like it was Will who was instructing her where to go.

As they approached a large group of guards, Marian raised her voice and began to shout in earnest at the outlaws.

'You fool!' she yelled. 'Take me to some real guards! Ones who know how to do their jobs!'

'Is everything alright, m'Lady?' one of the other guards asked her.

'No!' she shouted. 'I am fed up with these fools. I want to be shown to some guards who know how to do their jobs!'

'I can show you, m'Lady!' Will piped up, courageously.

'Good!' she retorted. 'Get going then!' she looked sourly at the group of outlaws, and the real guards let Will lead her and the rest of her companions past, giving each other looks that plainly said that they were glad not to have been assigned to whoever she was.

'Nice acting, Marian!' Robin whispered to her when he was sure they were out of earshot.

Marian smiled.

Will quickly led the way along several corridors and deeper into the castle, until they reached a long corridor, stretching the entire length of the floor. There were many wooden doors opening onto the brightly lit passage, and Marian smiled to see Jack working on once, nonchalantly.

He led them up to a door exactly halfway down the passage, and lifted the large, heavy latch, and invited them inside the dank, dark passage that led to the vault.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

'In, now!' Marian ordered, waiting for the mock guards to go through the door before entering herself.

The passage was dark lit by a single torch hanging from a bracket, making it glow a slight sinister orange. It only continued a short way before descending down flights of steps, zigzagging wildly. After descending more than ten flights of steps, the ground leveled out into a dank, dark, grimy passage.

'Who goes there?' a voice demanded, echoing menacingly in the narrow passage, and a guard in full armour, sword drawn appeared from round a corner.  
'Thank heavens, finally!' Marian exclaimed. 'You are to come with me. And the other men you have with you.'

'Says who?' the guard asked, pointing his sword at Marian, but she did not falter.

'Says I. I want the best guards with me, and these men say that they are down here.' She told him. 'I can't imagine why he keeps you down here when you'd be far more use up there!'

'I only take my orders from the Sheriff, Lady, so get back up those steps!' He barked.

'Watch who you're talking to!' Marian spat. 'I am the Sheriff's sister, fool! I want you to come with me, these guards are here to relieve you.'

Immediately his fierce manner was dropped, and he began to act like a scolded child.

'Oh, er, yes, m'Lady!' he said, and scuttled off, returning a few seconds later with four followers.

'Ha!' Robin whispered in her ear. 'It is as I thought, the guards are so occupied with trying to do the Sheriff's will, they forget all else in the process!'

'Here we are, m'Lady!' the first guard said.

'Good, now you follow me back up, these guards are to take your place.' She said, pushing Robin forwards, with secret delight.

She turned and marched back up the winding steps, and back out of the door to the castle passage. She caught Jack's eye and he gave the smallest of nods.

She led the following guards along the passage until she found what she was looking for; a door with a key.

'Wait for me in here.' She commanded, authoritatively and the five guards scurried inside.

When they were all in, she slammed the door and hurriedly turned the key, locking them in. There came many shouts and blows upon the door, and Marian laughed, turning and running back to the vault door, joining Jack.

Together, they rushed back down the steps to the narrow passage, where Robin and the others were waiting, joking with each other.

'Nice acting, Marian!' Robin laughed, and shook her shoulder.

'Never mind that!' She hissed at him. 'Can you do it, Jack?'

The carpenter was examining the heavy wooden door that separated the outlaws from the money. Quickly and skillfully, he began hammering and rasping at the hinges.

The outlaws shuddered at the noise that was magnified tenfold, certain that they would be heard and dragged off to the gallows. They waited with baited

breath until they heard a great clang of metal and splintering wood, and the door crashed to the stone floor.

They all sprang to their feet and crowded round the ruined door. Inside the tiny room, barely big enough to hold three of the outlaws, were many wooden chests crammed in together.

Robin broke one of them open with a clean stroke of his sword and many silver coins cascaded out and rained down upon the floor.

'Ha ha!' he cried in delight and triumph.

'How are we going to get all those chests out of the castle with nobody noticing?' Marian asked worriedly. There were many chests, and only seven of them. Even if they carried two each, there would be many left behind.

'Will has sorted that out,' Robin said, clapping Will on his armour. 'Haven't you Will?'

Will nodded.

'There is a shortcut that leads from the passage up there to an inner courtyard where George will be waiting with the wagon.' He said. 'If we meet anyone on the way, tell them we are urgently moving the chests on the Sheriff's orders. Pass the chests to them and go back for more. Robin arranged for the others to act as stable boys and other servants. They'll play the part.'

Robin picked up two chests.

'Come on then!' he said, and the others, including Marian, followed suit, and picked up two chests, tucking one under each arm.

Will led the way back up the steps to the passage and to went through a door straight opposite that led to a long, straight passage.

'Wait!' Much cried. 'Marian shouldn't be carrying chests! When did anyone important ever do the hard work?'

She laughed, and handed the chests she carried to the others, and followed on behind them.

Along the way, they met three disguised outlaws, and Robin, Harry and Alan passed their chests over to them and dashed back for more.

'Hurry up!' Marian scolded them, giving conviction to her part.

Soon, they burst through another door and into the corner of a quiet courtyard where George stood calmly by the wagon.

'Here!' he cried to them. 'In here!'

They hurriedly piled their chests into the back of the wagon, and then dashed back for more.

Several stable boys Marian did not recognise walked into the courtyard and stopped at the sight.

George froze, but Marian was quick off the mark.

'You as well!' she shouted at them. 'We need all the chests moved. You go as well!' Her bossy manner and fancy gown had the boys running after the outlaws down the passage to retrieve more of the Sheriff's money.

They returned a little while later laden with more chests, and two new faces, guards who had been collared in to help.

Marian bossily watched over them as they loaded their chests, shouting orders and scolding them savagely, in a manner she thought the Sheriff might use.

It was on the last trip that the worst happened.

The final few chests were being passed to the wagon, when the Sheriff and another man dressed in dark hide came clattering into the yard on horseback.

The Sheriff seemed to freeze for a moment, watching what was going on with a shocked expression.

'Guards!' he cried after he had recovered himself. 'Guards! Seize them! They're stealing my money! Get them! GET THEM!'

The man accompanying him sprang off his horse and drew his sword, rushing towards the wagon, but the outlaws were too quick. While the real servants and guards rushed around, confused, Robin and his men threw the last of the chests into the wagon and dived in after them.

Marian swung herself up to the driver's seat, and George whipped the horses into action, and they leaped forwards, causing the Sheriff to have to dive out of their way.

Robin stood up and leaned out of the wagon.

'I told you, Sheriff!' he bellowed back to the furious figure sprawled upon the floor. 'Robin of Loxley had struck again!'

He laughed wildly as the wagon sped precariously through the streets of Nottingham and into the countryside, back to the forest.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

The outlaws were still laughing with glee at their success when they crashed into the clearing, tearing past branches and throwing up leaves as they skidded to a stop, the horses snorting with the effort.

They all leaped down from the wagon, throwing off their costumes to be forgotten in the undergrowth, and began to haul out the chests brimming full with shiny silver coins.

'Look at it all!' Robin exclaimed as he practically danced between them. 'All the Sheriff's money!'

He was acting like an excited little boy, running round and examining the treasure.

'Well done everyone!' he cried, merrily. 'You were all brilliant! Especially Marian!'

He grabbed her as she walked by him, she had changed back into her outlaw attire, rid of all fancy clothes and signs of nobility, his arms wrapping round her waist. He pulled her close to her and she hardly dared draw breath as he leaned in and kissed her.

There was a loud whoop from the outlaws, and she pulled away, embarrassed. Though she put on an angry face and pushed Robin away, she couldn't help but think of his soft, warm lips on hers, and was shocked to find that she had enjoyed it!

What was she thinking? Robin was cocky, and arrogant and Marian did not like him!

He was a brilliant leader, though, she found herself thinking. The way he rallied his men and turned them from a gang of reckless outlaws to an organised group, trained and willing.

Stop! She thought. Stop trying to defend him!

She did not know what to think anymore. Foolish man! She had been perfectly fine in her thoughts and emotions until he had showed up and ruined them!

At the celebratory feast that followed a few hours later, Marian avoided Robin, and he her, it seemed. However, no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop her eyes flicking back to him every now and again, and sometimes, she found herself simply looking at him, taking in his lean frame and foresty brown hair.

Once or twice, he caught her looking at him, and she turned away quickly, embarrassed. A previous Robin might have winked at her and come over to boast and brag, but since the kiss, he seemed to have changed, towards her at any road. He was demure and quiet, almost embarrassed at his actions earlier.

Annoyed at her confusion and silly girlie thoughts, she went to bed early, trying to block out the raucous laughter that still echoed around the clearing.

Robin arose first the next morning. He looked round at his men, sleeping quietly, and then his eyes found Marian, pale and golden, beautiful, even in her sleep. He thought back to his actions the previous evening, and grimaced with embarrassment. He did not know what had come over him, what had pressed him to do what he had so longed to do for a while.

He looked away from her, cringing as he remembered her pushing him away and shouting at him. He had avoided her during the celebrations, too embarrassed even to apologise for his actions. But his eyes were always on her, and several times she had looked round to see him staring, and he had looked away, embarrassment doubling.

He wondered if he was being stupid. He had thought she was beautiful when Harry had first brought her back here, after she rescued him. He had admired her bravery and courage, and remembered his cocky, arrogant words with her after she arrived. No wonder she did not like him. He was an idiot to her, he thought angrily.

He snatched up his bow and quiver and stalked out of the clearing, now wanting his thoughts of her to be chasing him and haunting him there, and went to relieve his anger.

He shot arrow after arrow perfectly into the centre of the targets he was aiming for, and each thud as it shot into the wood, relieved his anger with a small whoosh. But these released were getting smaller and smaller, and the tension was creeping up on him again.

In his frustration, he shot an arrow wide, and threw his bow down with an angry yell. He stalked off after the arrow, finding it suspended in a holly bush, and the prickles he gained from retrieving it soothed him slightly.

He wandered off, not wanting to return to the camp just yet. Everything would remind him of her and his disastrous actions last night.

Absorbed in his thoughts, he wandered far, letting his feet find their own path, and was surprised when he found himself at a river, and made for the felled tree that acted as a bridge.

He saw another man on the other side, doing the same thing as he, and sped up so as to be the first to reach the bridge. The other man did the same.

They reached it both at the same time, and Robin, still feeling slightly mutinous, stepped up first, knowing it was rude. The man opposite saw this, and seemed angry at Robin's foul manners, and stepped onto the bridge too.

'We cannot both cross.' Robin shouted to the stranger, who was an incredibly tall and well built lad, he saw as he drew closer, and carried a great quarterstaff.

'Well you get out of my way!' he shouted back. 'I was on here first!'

He quickened his pace, and made for the middle of the bridge. Seeing what he was doing, Robin made for the centre too.

'Now we can go no further without one going back.' Robin said.

'Out of my way, or I shall push you in the river!' the other lad shouted.

'I am just as unwilling to move.' Robin said, enjoying winding him up, despite the fact that he towered over him. 'And I shall certainly do the same if you attempt to throw me off.'

'Well then,' the other lad said. 'We must fight for the right to cross the bridge first.' He took up his great quarterstaff and took his position.

'That is not fair!' Robin cried. 'For you have that great stave of wood, and I, only my bow and a few arrows.'

'Well then.' He said, fingering his staff. With a great wrench and a cry, he broke his it clean in two, and handed a piece to Robin. 'Now we are evenly matched.'

Robin smiled, mischievously, and the battle began.

There was a great thud of wood, and the two lads clashed, each throwing blows with his stave, blocked by the other. Although Robin appeared to be the better fighter, the other was much stronger, and he hit the first blow upon Robin's arm.

After crying out in pain, Robin doubled his assault, trying to hit any piece of his opponent he could. With his quick blows and nimbleness, Robin began to force the other lad back across the bridge, the way he had came. Each of them had cuts to their faces and had received many blows. Robin was feeling more and more triumphant as he forced the tall lad back down the tree, closer and closer to the bank, until he teetered upon the edge.

Suddenly, his opponent gave a huge roar and swung his staff round and it hit Robin on his side with such force, that he was sent flying into the water with a great splash.

He emerged again a few seconds later, dizzy with pain and hauled himself up onto the bank that the victor had dashed over to, and struggled to his feet, dripping wet and with blood trickling from his wounds.

'Well,' he said as he gasped for breath. 'It appears you have won.'


	16. Chapter Fifteen

The stranger smiled down at Robin panting on the grass.

'You fight well.' He said. 'And accept defeat gallantly.'

He offered Robin his arm and hauled him up easily.

'As do you.' Robin laughed. 'I am not easily beaten, but that time you had the better of me! Prey, tell me your name.'

'I am John Little of Hathersage.'

'Little?' Robin laughed. The lad was anything but. 'I like the name. Where are you headed to?'

'Nowhere in particular. I am just wandering.' He said. 'I was warned about entering this forest for the outlaws, but I carried on. I do not fear them.'

'And they do not fear you, but are now slightly humbled by your strength.' Robin said. 'Let me invite you back to our camp, Little John!'

John nodded, for he had wandered far and without food, and he followed Robin back.

The journey was slow, for Robin was sore from the blows John had delivered, several of them which were bleeding. He was practically on his knees, being supported by his guest when they arrived back.

There was an immediate rush towards Robin, who collapsed upon the ground.

'What is wrong!' they cried.

'I lost a fight.' He laughed back, wincing with pain.

'Here!' Marian shouted to them. 'Bring him here! And I need some water!'

Robin was lifted easily by John, the stranger whom nobody paid much attention to, and carried over to where Marian had cleared a space.

She pulled his shirt off, with mild resistance from Robin.

'I need to have a look at the wounds.' She insisted. All shred of embarrassment was gone in this moment of seriousness.

Where John had struck his final blow, the cut was bleeding heavily, and the area around it was bruised and tender, but nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days rest.

She dipped a bit of rag into the water that Will brought her and began to clean the wounds, ignoring his flinching at her touch.

'It must be clean.' She said.

'How did it happen?' Will asked.

'I lost.' Robin said, recovering some of his strength.

'Lost what?'

'A fight. Against this good fellow here.' He said, gesturing towards John, who emerged out of the shadows. 'Little John and I fought to cross a bridge, and I must say, he is an outstanding fighter, so I invited him back.'

John inclined his head to the other lads, who surveyed him with narrowed eyes, mistrusting instantly anyone who would hurt their leader so. It was almost comical, Marian thought.

'Take John and give him something to eat.' Robin said weakly as Marian dabbed at his side. 'Do not hate him because I am hurt.'

He fell silent, wincing and flinching at Marian's gentle touch.

She suddenly became very aware that it was Robin she was tending to.

Robin who had kissed her the previous evening, Robin who had confused her feelings so much, Robin whom now was sitting next to her, bare

chested, looking at her softly. She stared at the wound, pouring all her concentration into it, ignoring his eyes.

'Marian.' He said quietly.

Her body tensed at his gentle, lulling whisper, but she did not look up at him for fear of what she would see.

'I am sorry about last night.' He said gently.

She said nothing, not even daring to breath. There was so much tension between them, it could be cut with a knife.

'I shouldn't have done it. It was foolish of me, I am sorry.'

'That's alright.' She breathed, her heart pounding.

She knew he was looking at her with his hazel eyes; his gaze burned her, as if it was searching her very soul. She kept dabbing gently at the wound in his side, even though it was now clean, and had long since stopped bleeding. She just wanted an excuse not to have to look up at him, not to face up to her feelings.

'It was very un-gentleman like of me.' He continued.

In spite of herself, she found that she thought back to the kiss, warm and tender, yet brief. Subconsciously, she knew she longed for more, but there was something blocking it from creeping out into her waking emotion, leaving her feeling confused and frustrated.

'I am sorry I pushed you away.' She whispered eventually, heart pounding at what she was saying.

Robin was silent.

She was nearly shaking, hardly believing what she had said, not daring to even think how Robin had taken her words. The tension was unbearable, and Marian thought she would burst with it, with the weight of the things they both longed to say, but neither had the courage to.

'There,' she said, breaking the deafening silence, unable to bear it any longer. 'It is done. You must rest for a few days.'

The almost spellbinding atmosphere that surrounded them, hanging delicately and lightly in the air came crashing down around them.

She felt him move and put his shirt back on, her breathing returning to normal, almost with disappointment.

'Marian.' He said again, and this time she looked up into his face, deep into his eyes.

He lent forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

'Thank you.'

He got up and awkwardly walked towards his guest, leaving Marian sat where she was, tears of frustration welling in her eyes.

She threw the rag down to the floor with great force and gave a cry of anger and irritation.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**_Sorry it's taken a long time to update; I've been busy with lots of things. _**

**_Thanks for reading XxX_**

That night, Marian lay awake, listening to the voices and eventually sleeping snuffles of the other men. The moonlight streamed through the eaves of the trees overhead, dappling the ground in silver light. She tossed and turned, restlessly, praying that sleep would creep upon her as she slowly wore herself out, but it did not. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see one figure sitting before her, leaning forward to brush her cheeks with his soft lips.

Whenever that happened, she angrily threw her eyes open to try and rid herself of the unwanted vision, but her mind could not forget how Robin had looked at her, his eyes locking onto hers, and the emotion that had been lurking there.

She almost wanted to cry out in desperation again.

She kept hearing her words echoing through her mind in hollow remembrance.

I am sorry I pushed you away.

Her heart still pounded like a cadged wild animal when she thought about it, imprisoned in her ribcage so much so that she feared that it would wake the whole camp. Where had those words come from? They had spilled out of her mouth, unchecked by her brain like water jolted from a cup. She half knew that they were true, but her mind was in too much of a spin to know why.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw herself onto her side and tried again to sleep.

Only several feet away, Robin lay awake too, thinking about the figure lying to his right, unaware that she too was lying, eyes open thinking of him too.

He thought about her shining blonde hair, the colour of the pale dawn sun shining over the horizon for the first time, announcing the start of a brand new day. He wondered what it would feel like to stroke, would it be as soft as he imagined?

He thought back to her eyes, her fierce, bright green eyes, looking at him with the tenderness he longed to see there, echoed from his own gaze.

He remembered her smooth skin when he had touched it with his lips earlier that day, remembered her soft hands inadvertently touching his bare skin as she gently cleaned his wounds.

He remembered the feel of her lips on his as he kissed her in jubilation, soft and sweet.

Then he remembered the humiliation as she had pushed him away and he tried to conceal his embarrassment in his ladish behaviour. Immature, he knew, but his mind was a mess, she had ruffled his brain alright.

He remembered her actions at Harry's hanging, so bold and brave, totally unexpected of a young lady of social standing. But brilliant.

He had stood there, almost open mouthed as this preened and pampered girl had knocked the guard flying and rode at the gallows. He laughed to himself remembering the plan they had set in place was completely ruined by one girl, the group of outlaws he had rounded up rendered useless as Marian had hauled Harry onto her horse and made a break for it.

Suddenly, Robin's heart plummeted.

What if she liked Harry?

His grin faded instantly to be immediately replaced by fear. What if she had rescued Harry because they were lovers? He had not seen any evidence of it since, but he had not really looked. He had only seen her, and busied himself trying to impress her, he had not stopped to observe their behaviour.

With a despairing sigh, Robin turned on his side and tried to get some sleep; tomorrow was May Day, and the outlaws had planned festivities throughout the day.

Marian was awoken the next day by a ray of dawn sunshine striking her face. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes; she had only managed to get a few hours sleep. However, now she was awake, it was impossible to try and regain the peaceful slumber that she had had just a few minutes before.

The clearing was already a hubbub of activity; the preparations for the celebrations to mark the first day of May had begun. The lads were scurrying around the clearing already bearing food and ale and setting it on tables that had been erected in one area.

After she had washed herself and pulled her hair back, she found Harry, struggling to put up a set of coloured flags.

'Here, let me help.' She smiled, taking the end of the rope and securing it around a tree, while Harry did the same with the other end.

'Thanks.' He said.

'Is there anything else that needs to be done?' Marian asked, stepping back to admire the flags.

'There are several more to be put up,' Harry told her, coming to stand by her side, also looking up at their work. 'And there are things Robin wants to get from the village.'

Marian looked over to the chests that had been left in a remote corner of the clearing.

She wanted to give the villagers some of the money as a May Day gift, but she shied away from talking to Robin; her mind was still in a whirl. Maybe, if she told her idea to Harry, he could tell Robin and then they could go to the village.

Harry saw her gazing at the dark chests, and she took the opportunity to tell him of her plan.

Thankfully, he agreed that the villagers should share some of their Sheriff's wealth, and he laughed at the idea of them paying their taxes with his own money.

'Robin!' he called out to the lad striding amongst the preparations.

Marian's stomach clenched as Robin came over to them. Marian couldn't help but notice that his eyes kept flicking towards her, and she felt her cheeks flushing as she averted her eyes to the ground.

'Marian and I will go down to the village.' Harry told him. 'Marian has a plan. She wants to give out some of the money as gifts to the villagers. I agree.'

At his words, Robin jerked his head in an odd sort of way and a funny look crossed his face. For a moment, Marian thought he was going to disagree with her plan and a streak of anger blazed up inside of her. She snapped her blazing eyes onto Robin and prepared to launch an attack of words against him, but he began to speak.

'No.' He started. 'I'll come with you. Let's get the horses ready.'

Several hours later, Marian, Harry and Robin rode back into the clearing, grins etched onto their faces. They had taken with them several large bags stuffed full of the Sheriff's coins and had distributed them to the inhabitants of several villages, and any families they had met on the way. Robin and Harry's horses were now laden with satchels containing arrows, something they had picked up in one of the villages they had visited.

The clearing was now swarming with people, new people that Marian had never seen before, including many girls.

'Friends and guests to our party.' Harry said, grinning at Marian's expression; a mingle of surprise and fear.

He and Robin leaped off their horses and went to greet several of the people, exchanging many laughs and embraces.

Marian dismounted after them, making her way into the throng, trying to ignore the stares she got from the strange lads, but most of all trying to ignore the eyes of Robin, and in turn, trying to keep her eyes from straying to him, a habit that they seemed to have picked up by themselves.

Along with Alan and Much, she picked up some food from a small trestle table set up beneath the largest oak tree, and together they watched the people milling around, talking and laughing merrily, the happy sound echoing through the trees.

'Who are all these people?' she asked them.

'Friends.' Alan said. 'Some relatives of the lads. People from a few of the villages.'

'They come here for the May Day celebrations.' Much said. 'Come every year. People Robin used to know.'

As Much spoke his name, Marian found herself seeking him out. He was talking with several pretty girls, and despite herself, she felt a pang of jealousy.

Soon after this, someone produced a flute and a small drum and festive music began to float through the clearing.

Alan seized her hand and led her to a spot where others, including Robin and the girls, were already twirling and prancing in time with the lively tune and she and Alan joined in, laughing and jiggling.

After a time, Alan stepped away and Harry caught her, laughing merrily. They were both unaware of the icy look Robin shot them and he moved towards them.

The music was getting faster and faster and the people around them began dancing and spinning around them, laughter ringing in the air. Harry grabbed Marian round the waist and swung her round and round, faster and faster. She threw her head back as the surrounding trees and people spun past her and she laughed dizzily, squealing in delight until Harry let her go, and she stumbled backwards, dizzy and shrieking with laughter until someone wrapped their strong arms around her and caught her, saving her from hitting the ground.

Giggling, Marian looked up to see who her hero was and found herself looking up into the eyes of Robin. He was staring back at her with an expression she could not quite read. The music seemed to stop and all noise was drowned out as they both leaned towards each other and their lips met in a passionate embrace.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Marian did not know how long they were locked together, it felt like the minutes stretched into hours, or days or weeks even, before they finally broke apart. Her head was still spinning, but she didn't know whether the dizziness was caused by the dancing, or the kiss; she couldn't tell.

She didn't care.

All she cared about at that moment was the lad who looked back at her tenderly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, a smile she found herself returning.

'Caught you.' He breathed.

Marian couldn't speak. Finally she understood the emotions that had been wreaking havoc inside her since she had met this extraordinary man. Now she had discovered the reason for the queer jumping sensation in her stomach, she decided she liked it.

She became aware that she hadn't yet said anything to him, and her mind struggled for something good to say, something appropriate, but her head was bogged down and her thoughts seemed incoherent.

'Thank you.' She muttered finally, her voice quivering.

He smiled at her again, a smile that sent quivers down her spine. She smiled back.

Suddenly she was very conscious of the music and the amused faces watching them. Caught up in her moment with Robin, she had completely forgotten them. She couldn't even recall if the music had been playing all along. It felt like it shouldn't have. It should have paused, like her breathing and senses had paused, and should now be resuming a fanfare again.

She dropped her arms to her side, embarrassed as voices flared up around them, but Robin merely grinned at his comrades, snatched up her hands again, and continued to dance.

It was some while later, when heads began to get dizzy as a result of more than just dancing, Will, Alan and their new comrade, Little John, could be found sitting by the fire, each with a pot of ale in his hand.

'And then, if you will believe it, he stops his horse, and declares himself an enemy of the Sheriff, and Prince John!' Alan told John, waving his arms wildly to emphasise his story. He and Will were recounting to their latest member the many dealings and adventures they had enjoyed over the past few weeks.

'Well, indeed!' cried John, equally extravagant in his gestures. 'I declare that I am beginning to develop an intense jealousy of this man! I am beginning to feel that I have joined this merry band of men far too late for my liking, as all the adventures seemed to have happened already!'

'Well then, my friend.' Will told John, clapping him on the back. 'You should go out and have your own little adventure.'

'Yes,' Alan agreed, staring at Will with rather unfocused eyes, 'That is an excellent plan!'

'It is indeed!' John agreed loudly. 'I congratulate you, my friend, for your excellent thoughts. But the question remains, what adventure shall I have?'

'It will have to be a good one, otherwise you will still be jealous.' Alan said.

'A very good point.' Will said, trying rather unsuccessfully to clap Alan on the back.

They all sat there for several moments in silence, while each man tried to think through the ale they had consumed. Every so often, one would give a giggle into his tankard, which would set the other's off as well, and it would be a short while before they had calmed down again.

'I have it!' John cried suddenly. Alan and Will jumped in surprise, and then promptly began howling with laughter. 'I have it! Listen to me, good fellows, for I have a plan! I too will go to Nottingham, and there I will make my mischief.'

John made to get up from the log he was sat on, but completely missed his footing and thumped back down again with a bump.

The others burst out into raucous drunken laughter again, this time accompanied by John, who had found his inability to get to his feet hilarious.

'It does not look like you will be heading anywhere for a while, John.' Robin laughed as he and Marian made their way over to them, hand in hand. 'Why do you plan on going to Nottingham?'

'He has declared himself jealous of all our adventures!' Alan told Robin, wheezing from laughter.

'Jealous?' Robin exclaimed. 'Well in that case, you should go to Nottingham! Though, maybe not just now; the town will be sleeping!'

John, Will and Alan all peered up at the eaves of the trees above their heads, trying to glimpse the sky through their leaves.

From beside Robin, Marian laughed to see them so.

'Aye, and so it is,' John exclaimed. 'He does not lie. Nay, my outing shall be delayed for the time being. Tomorrow I shall have my adventure.'

'A good plan,' she told John, smiling at the thought of his sore head tomorrow.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_**Okay, I'm really sorry for those who were expecting an update, but it's not. I've edited several of the earlier chapters and a couple got split up, so this is just a bump-along. At least now the story makes sense now! I'll be editing the rest at a later date, and hopefully writing more as well. Thanks for reading and if you've got any comments I'd LOVE to hear them!**_

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The next morning, the clearing was full of the moans and groans of those who had indulged in too much ale and celebration the night before, and Marian wasn't the only one to rise from her pallet when the sun was already high above the trees.

Yawning and bleary eyed, she stumbled across the clearing, avoiding the sleeping outlaws, many of whom seemed to have collapsed where they were sitting or standing, too drunk to pull themselves into a pallet, or anywhere more comfortable. Stepping over the debris of the party, she reached the small trickling stream that ran past one corner of the clearing and cupped her hands to splash her face.

She had been enjoying the freshness of the water for only a few seconds when a great shaggy creature threw himself down beside her, and stuck his whole head beneath the bubbling water.

Shrieking as the splash hit her, she struggled back from the water's edge, wondering who on earth it was. It was only when the stranger had emerged again, she recognised the lad as the newcomer, Little John of Hathersage.

With a laugh she remembered their conversation from last night.

'How do you feel this morning?' she asked as John shook his head, scattering droplets of water everywhere.

He looked round and smiled at her.

'It's been better, I have to say!' he said with a grin. ' Though I am not as afflicted as some of these poor fellows,' he turned and gestured at those still sleeping where they had fallen. 'I can handle my ale better than that!'

'And do you remember what you swore to do last night?' she asked, as smile on her face.

'Oh goodness, it was probably a whole host of things!' he laughed. 'Go on, enlighten me!'

'You declared that you were jealous of all the tales that Robin and his men spun about their deeds,' she told him. 'And you declared that then and there you would go out and have your own adventure, but upon the discovery that it was in face night time, you put it off until the morn.'

John chuckled.

'Aye, now you say, I do remember that!' he laughed at the memory.

'Do you still wish to have your adventure?' Marian asked.

'I am up for anything, so aye, I am still, as always, up for an adventure! Though maybe not this side of noon,' he winked at Marian and rubbed his head slightly. 'Prey, where is your lover this morn?'

Marian felt herself blush at his words, but felt a warm, odd, tingling sensation around her midriff.

'He is in his pallet still,' she told him. 'Obviously, he is not as good as you when it comes to handling his drink!'

He laughed at that.

'Who says I cannot handle my drink?' a voice boomed from above them, and both John and Marian jumped and turned to see who had spoken. It was Robin.

'Morning!' he greeted, swooping down and planting a kiss on Marian's cheek.

'Seeing as we both rose before you,' Marian said teasingly, 'I think we both can!'

'Nonsense,' Robin brushed her comment away with a cheeky grin. 'Anyway, John, you were asking after me?'

'Aye,' John said. 'Merely wondering where you were, that is all. Don't want to miss out on any adventures now, do I?'

Robin laughed.

'You remember our conversation then?'

'Aye, I do, and fully intend on embarking on one. Just as soon as I have filled my belly!'

There was a little smoked venison and bread left over from the feast last night, so while Robin and John and a few of the other outlaws broke their nightly fast, Marian preceded to tidy up the mess.

'So, what adventure were you thinking of having today then, John?' Robin asked as he chewed on a sliver of venison.

'Any that stakes my hand,' John replied. 'I left my home in Hathersage to seek my fortune and find adventure, so I shall not be content merely sitting in this clearing and listening wistfully to the great deeds of others.'

'No,' Robin admitted. 'That does not sound appealing. I'll tell you what, why do we not both set out on the road today? I fancy a walk, and you an adventure, we may meet something on our road.'

'Aye,' John agreed with a smile. 'Sounds alright to me.'

It was half an hour later when Robin and the newest member of the band of outlaws set out on their way.

'You be careful!' Marian warned Robin as he kissed her goodbye. 'Make sure you come back.'

'Don't worry, lass, I shall. Don't you worry,' he smiled as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the nose. 'Goodbye.'

Robin led John through the confusing network of paths and small clearings that surrounded the main camp and prevented anyone who did not know the paths well enough from penetrating. Soon, they emerged onto the leafy forest road where the trees were tall and more scattered, their canopies high above, leaves swaying lightly in the breeze that played at their heights causing the patches of dappled sunlight that reached the ground to ripple and move, making the detritus of years of leaves seem like sun-kissed water.

'It is indeed a beautiful day,' John said, peering up at the treetops.

'It is, my friend,' Robin agreed, following his gaze, but with slight more caution, always his eyes were darting from tree to tree, and onto the road. 'Though I urge you caution. You are with enjoying the company of a hunted man, you could be in danger if any happed this way.'

But John merely shrugged off Robin's words.

'I shall deal with any of them,' he said in a slightly smug voice.

'Be that as it may,' Robin told him with a small smile. 'But I doubt you'll be as confident faced with the entire of the Sheriff's guard!'

John made a non committal noise in the back of his throat.

'I'd give it a damn good try,' he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

Suddenly, as they rounded the brow of a hill, Robin threw out his arm to stop Little John in his tracks. With a smile, he pointed down into the dell below them.

'I think you may have found your adventure,' he grinned wolfishly at his companion.


End file.
